One Hundred Days
by PetiteElefant
Summary: "Your friend. He worries me." The short, dusty skinned girl shrugged at her guardian sitting alone in the far corner, peering at his hands, "How?" "He seems afraid of everything," the much fairer, taller ginger noted. "Well not everything," the child chimed, "He likes chocolate and Band-Aids and I think his bellybutton, but I'm not sure." The woman's eyes grew, a bit shocked, "Oh."
1. Chapter I--Exile

**One Hundred Days**

Written By: PetiteElefant

OHD is a story of pain, tears, apples, laughter, thievery, knitting, secrets, coffee, embraces, and spasmodic dancing.

**This fanfiction will make you cry, make you squee, and ,hopefully, make you laugh hysterically. It's a bit slow and sad in the beginning, but stick with me over the days and you will learn to adore it. Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I only own Peyton and the secondary characters that will be introduced in the future. I do not own Marvel which means I don't own the characters from the movies Thor or The Avengers. Now let my tale commence.**

**Warnings: Post canon, OOC, and OCs.**

**Chapter I: Day One-Exile**

-December First, Two-Thousand and Thirteen

_My world was dark. My world was cold._

_The air was heavy with the breath of my brothers. Night and day they would come and I was to serve my punishment in passive silence. All there was to drink was that of the spilt blood of my sins, and all there was to eat were the ripened fruits of my transgressions. When I was awake I saw them, when I was asleep I saw them. Consciousness was an unending nightmare, so I prayed for oblivion, when my body could no longer live for me, the scent of death lingering by my face._

_My world was dark. My world was cold._

_Then one day, after months my perpetual affliction, I awoke to the eyes of crimson as I had done for aeons. Those eyes of vermillion that belonged to my family,my family of blood, whom as an adversary they had handled red eyes of repugnance. I could not see, nor smell. But I could hear. I heard voices. "This is the last day. The last day of our betrayer." they said. "He'll be dead. He cannot live. Our mirth has finally ended."_

_But, dear reader, I did live. This is my story._

* * *

The golden halls glinted in the early sunlight as the grand palace doors swung open. The sounds of two distinct pairs of feet echoed down its aisle; the confident clod of forced pride; the haggard, defeated limp of the direst of suffering. Two guards held up the rear, their metal armour rattled as they marched in perfect unison. They passed several man and maidservants, wide-eyed with shock, whispering suspiciously amongst themselves. Entering the Main Hall, he waved everyone away, keeping his prisoner firm in powerful grip.

Seated far at the end of corridor, both the King and Queen of Asgard were seated nobly upon their lofty thrones. They stood regally, intending to appear nonchalant at their son's arrival, though he, even at a distance, could explicitly decipher the distress and tears were brimming in his mother's eyes, curly blonde hair falling down her back. Odin, the much older, staid-looking ruler with a metal covering over his right eye, however, showed no expression.

Their footsteps ceased and the air hung heavily in the room. Their eldest son kneeled in center of the majestic Throne Room, a strikingly red cape pooling around him as he bowed out of respect, finally releasing his captor from his iron hand.

"Father, I have brought-" Thor announced in deep stately tones, almost mentioning the forbidden name, "-him home."

The All-Father muttered something momentarily to his wife, descended to the floor with grandeur, approached his son with a less-than-appeased look on his face. Frigga, on the other hand, didn't move an inch as she was formerly instructed.

"I wish to speak to him alone." The King commanded, looking his true offspring in the eyes.

Thor nodded and the Throne Room was emptied save Odin, Frigga, and the prisoner.

The Queen stayed stationary. She had been separated from him long enough; she was not going to leave the presence of one whom she had so sorrowfully missed.

Odin turned toward the silent, hunched, quivering, deep gray-cloaked, figure whose eyes were screwed solidly into the marble floor beneath them.

"Loki," he whispered remorsefully.

The young demigod couldn't raise his head to look the King in the eye, he didn't have the strength. Both physically and emotionally.

"Look at me."

The decrepit form was so terror-stricken, he quaked where he stood, giving a considerable jump and a cry at the commanding voice. He dug his skeletal knuckles into his hand, so hard they bled. His entire body was tense in a freeze-frame and felt of lead, he couldn't bring himself to meet gazes with his father. Not after their previous engagement. Not that.

"Look at me. Please."

For the first time since he could remember, the All-Father's voice dripped with what seemed to be…what? Contriteness? He didn't even give the slightest thought of disobeying the righteous god who had the might, power, and sanction to do whatever he wished to him. The idea of challenging the All-Father didn't even cross the adopted demigod's notion. His mind had been completely re-established. No longer one that was just his. All of his rebellious and crafty and mutinous designs had been extinguished,expunged, struck out of him so, so long ago…

Trembling significantly,the hooded head levitated shamefully, revealing a snowy-pale, battered face in stark contrast of his raven hair, some tendrils plastered by the sides near his ears by trickles of blood. The lower half of his face was encased in a dented silver muzzle, rimmed by glowing green eyes that danced about, filled with absolute horror and pain.

The King's heart shattered at the horrible sight of his not-son's form, though he did not show it, except for a softened expression pouring across his elderly face. Against his will, the ruler swallowed sharply before he stated tersely,

"You are not here to be killed."

Loki closed his lids, greatly disappointed. Being dead was all he wanted, every night when he did have the power to force himself asleep he often dreamt of death, how wonderful it would be not to hurt, not to hear, not to feel. But they wouldn't grant such a magnificent liberation for him. That would be too generous a release. _Why,__ I know you would wish me to…If it is all the same…please do…I would be greatly gratified..._

Despite what Odin said what he thought to have been providential news, Loki's fearful appearance did not subside.

"I have a proposal to make."

_Like what?! Have you found elsewhere to send me to be…to be…_His thoughts couldn't wrap around the terrifying word, the word that harassed his very being, day in and day out. No, not even in his silent thoughts could he raise his voice to anyone. Not even himself.

"A chance to redeem yourself. To reclaim your once good name."

_What…_

Loki glanced upwards for the first time. His name? He had a good name?

There was a pause. His brows knit together in a refreshed confusion his eyes trying to read the King's face, trying to figure out what this was all about. What could possibly be done?Why was he brought back here to this place? Why, why could they just destroy him and end all of the torment?

"There is a girl. A Midgaurdian girl, here in Asgard."

Loki's eyes widened slightly in bemusement, his heart was pounding furiously in his chest, not knowing why Odin was playing games and not raising his hand and decreeing another castigation against him. The King of Asgard was known for developing…creative punishments. Though Loki could not, his brain forbidding him to do so, think of anything worse than his last. And if it was, it would surely kill him this time.

"It is not known how she arrived here or why. She is living alone in an isolated cottage in the middle of a faraway woodland. A resident in a distant, remote village called Ingamar recognized her as a foreigner and reported an incident."

He gave him a look of utter puzzlement, there was no reasonable explanation to rationalize that the grand ruler of Asgard brought his son home-or rather-to his place of childhood-to give him news of some sort of an Midgard invasion. There was an ulterior motive and it baffled the demigod to no end as to what it was or what it was for. Why was he waiting? What was going to happen to him? This time?

Odin cleared his throat, not catching the real basis for Loki's perplexity, believing it had something to do with the human and added with a slightly embarrassed tone, "She was caught stealing onions from one of the local merchants."

Loki furled his eyebrows in a mixture of bewilderment and anticipated fear. Odin had comdemned him, now he was rescuing him and for what? He couldn't understand. Quivering, sweatbeads began to form underneath his matted hair and slid down the sides of his face, collecting the blood and splashing drops of crimson on the white, marble floors.

_Why did you save me from them? What has this anything to do with me?_

The All-Father finally being able to read his thoughts, gave an awkward scratch to his metal breastplate and skipped to the point.

"She needs a guardian until we can send her to her homeland…"

Loki's face darkened again.

"And you need to complete your sentence."

'His sentence'. Odin pondered these words sullenly. He oh-so wished they didn't sound so ominous.

Loki again fixed his gaze with the ground, closed them tightly, sustaining tears that he refused to let come. There was only reason he would mention that to him. Was he to... No, that could not be true. Only more lies. Lies had ruined his life. Desolated his mind. Fueled unexplainably nefarious passions, making him commit unfathomably heinous deeds.

In response to his gaining indignation, Loki blasted air through his nostrils angrily into his muzzle.

Suddenly, something in his brain struck him with a powerful force. There was relentless pain and a blackness for a split moment as something unseeable attacked him. Anger was not an emotion he was permitted to have. There was no such thing as anger. Fear. Fear was the only emotion.

At the realization of his insolent act, he instantaneously cringed, gasped, and turned his head away, as if he thought the King was going to assault him for his miniscule expression of disrespect.

Odin's heart shattered once more, eye enlarged farther then what could be considered normal. He'd never seen Loki ,or really anyone, do something like that previously. What was that? He wasn't certain that he could take any more emotional distress. After his the last time he had seen his son, he had made a cruelly horrendous decision. A choice that haunted him night after dreadful night for several months. Shrouded in a nebulous cloud of culpability and despair._What had they done to him?_

Loki's head slowly revolved back around, and his clear-green eyes stricken with dread, anxiously searched his not-father's face, wondering why he hadn't been hit.

As usual, Odin showed no out-ward sign of sympathy for his son. His pride prevented him. There was a agonizingly long pause as he stared at the trembling figure before him, then continued,

"You will watch over her for one hundred days-"

Loki head shook involuntarily in astonishment, his eyes tickering about, conjecturing if he had heard the King correctly. No, he couldn't have. He must still be dreaming.

"Then you will be restored to your original status in the Palace as before."

His words only seemed to confuse and frighten Loki more, who was starting to pant uncontrollably, his chest rising and falling at an unnatural rate, ever heightening the inexorable burning in his back.

_No…no…no humans…please…you can't…_

Another pause as Loki's eyes flickered over to where the amanuensis would have been seated, high in a preserved booth, recording the words and occurences of the trial, the crowds filling the entire hall scoffing at him…this must have been a private arrangement, otherwise the news of a banishment would have been disclosed to all of the nobles and residents of the Palace, all there to witness his…

Shaken from his thought the King of Asgard concluded in a booming voice, "I hereby exile you to Ingamar for one hundred days."

The convict stared at the floor once more echoing the reprimanding phrase over and over in his mind, _One hundred days._

Feeling the shards of guilt pierce his chest, Odin added in a somewhat quieter tone, trying not to make eye-contact with his adoptive son,

"Yesterday, I delivered a herald over to the house to inform the child of our arrival. She is expecting us. We must leave immediately."

Expecting him? He doubted it.

Guard her. Guard this human child. Mortals. A race in which he had intended on destroying. Erradicating. Now Odin was trusting him. Trusting him to protect one. After all the he had done. All the lives he had ended. It was madness. He did not deserve this. He was a monster of nature. Monsters are not worthy of such a complaisant reform. His brain racked with utter confusion. His mind couldn't wrap around any possible reasoning of his sudden predicament. There was absolutely no sense in it.

Forlornly, the prisoner looked past Odin, at his mother, though she was completely still, tears were streaming down her face.

_Please be safe, I love you, my son._

He heard these words creep mysteriously into his head; she had spoken to him telepathically.

Odin exited with a regal stride out of the corridor, having the unusual urge to look back and say something, anything, but didn't.

Loki, against all reason, stayed behind all alone on the floor of the Throne Room and stood before his mother. Another lie. She did not love him and he was not her son.

Dejectedly, he turned away from her and laboriously began to follow Odin. He, without knowing specifically, he stopped before leaving the room. She the only one who he believed ever truly showed him affection in his entire life. His mother had always wished him to be accepted, but knew it could not be, yet she loved him genuinely, at least, so had used to think…up until a year and a half ago.

He turned again toward her gazing morosely up at the Queen's porceline face with those deep ocean eyes of her, with hair just as gleaming as her throne. With a single tear falling and seeping into his rusty muzzle, he briefly did a sullen nod. This was his only goodbye.

_I do love you, as well…Mother._

With out a second look, he staggered down the corridor, pain creasing the ever so prominent lines in his face, his chains about his hands clattering, and his cloak slowly sweeping the floors as he did so.

"Be safe, my son." she whispered as tears rasped her hopeful voice.

Outside the palace gates, Thor and the two guards were already upon on their horses, striving not to shiver as their capes whipped about in the bitter winds, awaiting them. King Odin ordered that a small cart be attached to his steed, sensing Loki's inability to barely stand or walk, let alone ride a horse. Loki let out a groan as he painfully clambered inside. Odin mounted his and they were off. Two excruciating journeys in one morning without rest. It was going to be a long day.

After hours of bumping, hopping, and lurching across Asgard, terrible riding conditions only intensifying as they approached mountainous terrain, blighting questions still swirled about in his mind. Were they really taking him to Ingamar? Did they really trust him to live with this…mortal? A human child?

Meanwhile, Odin was deliberating as well. Perhaps, this wasn't the greatest of his brilliant ideas. Sure, he'd banished Thor to Midgard, giving him a change of heart. Yet…Loki. There was a distinction. Was it possible? After everything? Assumably, there was also the chance of Loki hurting the human…But could he? He knew his son committed several murders. Nevertheless…was he capable of killing an innocent child? A mere girl? He seemed to have apparently undergone enough already…wounded eternally. Much more than had been intended. Possibly beyond repair…

* * *

Hours passed. It was cold in sweeping upwards through the mountain,promising an anticipation of a chilly winter, but the air was loosened by a breeze coming through the forest, rustling the trees, making them sway. With time,the sky changed from blue to yellow to pink.

It was late afternoon, and though Loki had been to almost every land in Asgard, after a certain point, nothing was recognizable. They were in the thick, never-ending forest, passing a babbling brook, when Odin broke the silence, yelling over the sound of crunching leaves beneath the hooves of the horses and wheels of his cart.

"I believe it would be beneficial for you to know, that there is an enchanted bulwark surrounding this region. You will not be able to even do so much as to levitate a pin here."

Great. There was no escape.

Though he was no longer accostumed to disobedience, Loki he dared himself to think of an idea that would normally have been uncustomary for him to come up with.

_He could be bluffing._

He decided test his theory subtly. Loki waited until the wind stopped blowing for a moment, and focused on a particular tree and squinted. Concentrating on attempting to shake the remaining dead leaves off its branches. The tree didn't budge. He knew what happen before he even tried. His powers weren't functioning before and they certainly weren't about to now. Magic was not a endowment he would ever be permitted to use again, and he knew that. Wonderful.

He wanted to disappear. Vanish more than anything. To fade away and to never come back. Even then, his mortification would follow him everywhere. Guilt. Shame. Remorse. Pain. Despair. Gnaw inside of him from every corner of his being. Thrash him relentlessly from the recesses of his mind forever and ever. The greatest of all magic couldn't cure that. Never.

They eventually came to a small clearing in the very heart of the dense forest, and Loki sat up and observed his surroundings, shaking anticipatedly of what he would soon call home.

There was a tiny, abandoned, red-brick cottage covered in wilting vines at the edge of a little field, browned with winter. The both sides of the roof curved upwards to tapered peak, giving the abode a faerie, storybook-like air. A great apple tree stood as a loyal companion beside the dwelling, the only sign of life in the landscape. He would have assumed the home vacant if it weren't for the smoke billowing out its chimney, inviting them.

_That must be it._

As they finally stopped a several yards away from in front of the house, Loki sighed in gratitude, glad not to be moving any longer. Thor and the guards were ordered to stay behind and were told to keep strict watch on the house.

Odin leapt off his horse and waited for Loki to ascend from the cart.

"Come."

Obediently, Loki followed behind his not-father , he didn't dare recalcitrate. He was much too afraid of angering the King, giving him any more reason to possibly withdraw what he viewed as a gracious offer compared to his previous...punishment. To be sent back…

Odin refusing to slow his pace in order for his crippled son to keep up, they trekked across the brittle field and reached the front of the whimsical house. Two large windows were placed on either side of the door. There were little white planters on each windowsill with dead flowers in it.

_This house is surrounded by death. Supposed foreshadowing, perhaps._

They simultaneously took deep breaths. King Odin hesitantly rapped on dome-shaped door. There was immediately a gasp and a little squeal followed by vibrations of light footsteps approaching.

Odin turned and spoke to the former prince of Asgard,

"Loki, if you disclose to her anything of the events of this past year, I _will_find out. And if you harm her in any way. In _any _way at all Loki Laufeyson, I will deport you back. Straight back from whence you came."

Loki's face was absolutely mortified, he shook his head frenziedly, trembling more than he had before, hearing the voices in his head, cackling.

_No...please...anything but that…_

_"_And beware of her, I was informed she is…anomalous."

_Anomalous? In what way?_

They were both startled by…

"Whooo iiiis iiiit?" sang a delighted voice muffled behind the heavy, wooden door.

Odin rolled his eyes. Who else would call on an abandoned house in middle of nowhere? But before he could answer the door creaked open.

A small woman of freckled, olive skin wearing a low-cut moss green sweater-blouse emerged, panting from behind the door. Silver hooped earrings the size of golf-balls hung from her ears. Her little brown face, surrounded by thick, wispy hair, was all lit up. Her big, dark brown, cat-shaped eyes sparkled at the sight of the King. She pushed a curly tendril of her medium-length, raven locks back into her very loose cat-tail shaped pony, trying to mend her appearance.

"Sorry, I'm all outta' sorts, guys. Give me a sec'." she said still breathing hard and slammed the door.

Odin looked at back at Loki with his good eye, both were wide-eyed with shock.

The girl glanced about the room, to make sure everything was in place, and happily clasped her hands together. She had been white-washing the house all yesterday and today. Though now tired and slightly smelling of soap, all of her exhaustion had been wiped away at the expectation of her meeting the well known gods of Norse mythology, plus and hello? She was going home! She looked in the gold-framed rectangular mirror beside the door and beheld her animated expression.

_Omigoshohmigosh! Eek! Holy crapola! The royalty of Asgard! In **my** house! I'm going to meet Thor and Odin! Holy friggen' crapola!_

She ran her fragile fingers through her tresses and re-styled the thick pony-tail. She slicked her eyebrows. She batted her curly, spider-like lashes of her close-set eyes and pursed her full, pink lips. She grimaced as pulled up her sweater-blouse higher on her chest.

_Don't look like a flasher, wanna' scare them, geez…_

She sighed and clasped her hands together once more, "Just think, I'll be going home soon. Home. Earth. Thank goodness, I'm saved! Glad to be getting the **heck** out of here."

She took a deep, cleansing breath, and casually opened the door, without even trying to conceal an elated grin.

With the door ajar, the girl saw that the King had a stunned look on his face.

The freckled child chortled pleasurably.

"Haha,well, don't just stand there, freezing. Come in, come in, it's much warmer in here." she beckoned with pleasant, newscaster-like intonations.

Her orotund tone of voice was slightly surprising, coming from one so small.

She held the door open, waving them in.

"Thank you." King Odin regally entered through the little door.

She peered sharply upwards and saw the second person for the first time with a long dark gray cloak, who was quite tall, with hands cuffed in front of him. His face was shadowed by the thick hood over his head. The sight was slightly discomforting, but she definitely wasn't going to leave him outside to chill in the wintry air. It wasn't obvious to her yet that one such as he simply didn't 'get cold', as she was soon to find out.

"Umm… Come in, too." she said awkwardly to the hunched figure.

The prisoner glanced downwards, and uncomfortably shuffled past, having to duck to go through the threshold.

_He must have been some runaway servant or something._

She followed them merrily inside with a cheerful skip.

It was a cozy little home. The tiny kitchen, living space, and dining area, in fact the entire house, was all one room. A round wooden table sat beside the kitchen counter. There was a long ,green , worn- velvet sofa in the center and opposite it was an antique, burgundy, wing-backed chair. The fireplace blazed in the welcomingly background. The only thing out of place in the quirky cottage space was a strange metal device with several connected gears hanging from the far wall above an old wooden credenza.

"Please have a seat." She motioned toward the couch.

The petite girl stepped up on a little wooden stool and peered through the left window. She squealed gleefully as she heightened herself on her tiptoes to get a better view.

She pointed at a faraway figure on a horse and gasped.

"Hey, is that Thor?!"

"Yes." Odin muttered, planting himself with a frown on the tattered furniture.

She gasped again and waved frantically, tip of her wispy, curly ponytail brushing the middle of her back.

Thor was twiddling his thumbs, impatiently waiting on his horse, sweating anxiously. _How long are they going to be_**_in_**_there?_ He saw something moving at the corner of eye. His head flashed toward the window of the house. There was a tiny, tan-skinned girl waving at him. That must have been the child. He waved awkwardly back at the small, jittery person in the window, already feeling that this may have been a great mistake.

"He waved at me." she whispered and giggled. The little human cocked her head to the side, questioningly.

"Isn't he coming?" she asked, wondering why he wasn't moving, sitting there all awesome on top of his horse.

Odin said, "I will get to that. Please sit."

The girl skipped over to the kitchen counter and picked up the clear glass water-pitcher.

She said with a noticeable hint of a North-Eastern accent, "Anybody want any water, or…"

She checked the cabinets, and snickered at not seeing anything else, " Or… or what, water?"

Odin was growing slightly impatient. "No. Thank you, please be seated."

She put down the pitcher and noticed for the first time that the prisoner was still standing discomfited beside the couch.

Her curious eyes ran over his bent, weathered body, and cleared her throat.

"Uh…ya' know, you can sit too, it's big enough for the both of you." she said sweetly to the strange man in the dark shroud.

He looked at her for the first time, shifted uncomfortably as if wondering whether or not it would be acceptable to do so, and painfully lowered himself at the very end of the couch farthest away from the King and grimaced as he plopped down.

In his slight bounce, the hood slid off his head.

The girl suppressed a gasp. A pale, milky white face with smooth, inky hair down to his shoulders with bright, green eyes filled with agony, was uncovered from underneath the cloak. His face was encased in some sort of muzzle that, to her dismay, seemed as though they'd seen much better days and his thin wrists were clasped with heavy hand-cuffs.

The child's joyful expression instantly vanished. She recognized him immediately.

"Oh my go-." she breathed almost inaudibly.

_Loki._

They locked eyes, his empty, hers worried, as she slowly maneuvered over to her maroon-coloured wingback chair and sat with an expression of utmost shock clear on her face.

She suddenly didn't feel very cheerful.

Something clicked on inside of her head, seeing immedietly the bright ticker of a red flag raising up and waving at her from behind them both. Kings did not personally make house calls for no apparent reason, even if it was to visit someone who didn't really have a right to be there. I mean, duh that's what mediary emissaries were for. She was small but she definitely wasn't stupid. As a theif you have to be able to pick up little things, like noticing a whisper of tension tugging on the corner of a wise and very old man's eyes, deciphering the nervous half-second twitches of his upper lip beneath his mustache. You just had to be quick like that.

Her voice devoid of glee and staring Odin straight in the eyes said, "What's going on?"

"I will explain, but before I begin, may I have your name?" Odin inquired respectfully.

She had given her name to the understatedly-'unfriendly' messenger just the day before, but she guessed that he was too busy giving her dirty looks to pay any attention to what she had said to him.

Now that her 'guests' were here, she wasn't so sure she wanted to give her real name. Something was funny about this whole situation. She could feel it.

Pop!

There was another red flag sticking up at the top of Loki's head. Why? He was trembling. But it wasn't cold in the house. So what was the big deal? Shaking when it's not cold means only two major things- 'psycho' or 'fear'. She already knew he was psycho which only left fear. And Loki just didn't do 'fear'. Not a good sign. And that ,sure as **heck,** make it fifty million times _less_ comfortable sitting in the same room with him.

Despite all of the warnings, nonetheless, she knew that Odin wouldn't say a peep without first having a name. She was hesitant, but she gave up. She sighed and dictated explicitly in her serious, clear voice,

"Peyton."

**_REVIEW!_**

**First impressions anyone? Good, bad, fantastic? Tell me.**


	2. Chapter II--The Proposal

OHD is a story of pain, tears, apples, laughter, thievery, knitting, secrets, coffee, embraces, and spasmodic dancing.

**Hey people! Thanks to those who followed me! Happy Monday! Enjoy this chapter and your day off! 1.21.13**

**Disclaimer: Don'townit,don'townit,don'townit. ****(Except for Peyton.)**

**Warnings: Muzzles, chains, and a big brother.**

**Chapter II:Day One-The Proposal**

-December First, Two-Thousand and Thirteen

"Peyton."

Odin and Loki blinked.

_Peculiar name._

There was a minor pause, Odin was no doubt waiting to hear a last name but quickly understood he wasn't receiving one , but relieved to finally get down to business and began,

"Greetings…Lady Peyton-"

"Uh, just Peyton, if you don't mind. I'm not really one for titles." she interrupted, "Anyone with eyes can tell I'm a woman. There's no need to clarify it."

There was a break in proceedings as Odin stared blankly at the small child.

Peyton thoughtfully rubbed her chin. "Well,you know what? Now that I think about it, Lady Peyton does have a nice ring to it…"

Odin merely squinted with her one eye, ordering her to be silent.

"Sorry, that was rude. Carry on… oh, and just Peyton is fine." she concluded with a sarcastic grin.

The King of Asgard blinked twice and continued with his introductions.

"As you know, I am Odin, King of Asgard. And this is…Loki…my son."

Loki slightly winced at the words 'my son', for this was not true.

Peyton staring directly into Loki eyes callously stated, "I know."

His eyes immediately stapled themselves to the ground. Her face softened as she realized she had sounded kind of harsh.

"I would like for you to first answer some questions."

Peyton reached into her back pocket and retrieved a metal switch-blade emery board and began eroding nails so unbelievably long and sharp that they could only be described as 'talons' and boredly replied "Sure."

After several seconds of watching her in utter disbelief as she sawed casually away at her fingernails as if it was a normal custom she did before she was interviewed, he bellowed, "Please!", making both her and Loki flinch.

Peyton put the nail file away, folded her hands, and placed them on her lap disinterestedly. "Okay. Shoot, Buster."

Odin ignored the distasteful remark.

Meanwhile, Loki was watching her every move from opposite side of the couch. Scratching notes on everything he knew of her in the recesses of his mind.

First Name: Peyton

Surname: Unknown

Age: Unknown (adolescent)

Eye Colour: Dark brown

Nationality: American (Most likely North-Eastern) (derived from accent)

Height: One hundred and fifty-two centimeters (Five feet) or less

Hair: Medium-length/thick/black

Skin: medium/ olive/ freckled

Size: Very short / slim …._… _mature

Unique features: Skin colour/ slight gap between front two teeth

Identifying Marks: Skin colour (There aren't many in Asgard with coloured skin, you know.)/coarse scar on left wrist/small birthmark on forehead between eyes

Additional comments: Rude/ Impatient/ Hyper/ Tiny

It was astounding what the observant demigod could infer of a person in only a couple of minutes.

"How did you arrive in Asgard?...Did you take the Rainbow Bridge?" Odin hoped she knew what he was talking about.

Peyton sighed, "No, I did not take the Bifrost. The messenger asked me the same thing."

His eye widened. _She knows about the Bifrost? How, she is only a mortal child._

The 'mortal' resumed,_"_I explained to the messenger that it is difficult to _elucidate_ how exactly I got here, but I don't think he was really _adhering _to what I was saying."*

Odin wasn't surprised as he remembered how the herald related how stubborn she was. How specifically difficult was it to relate how you emerged mysteriously on an alien planet without proper knowledge of how you did it. The King assumed she was hiding something. No matter, it would not change the effectiveness of his plan.

"Very well. How long have you been living here exactly?"

"Four days, twenty-three hours, and…"

Peyton leaned over the arm of the chair and squinted at a copper sun-dial set up by the right window.

"Eighteen minutes… approximately." she finished, not breaking her modulated tone of voice and tucking her feet into the creases of her chair.

Loki added 'Resourceful, Perceptive' to his log.

"Almost five complete days."

"That's right." she said with a nod.

"Have you anyone else residing here with you?" he asked glancing up the stairs.

"Nope, just me." she said lightly, dangling her little feet from the chair.

"Fine." He took a quick glance at Loki who was still peering through the floor.

"Peyton, we have strict laws on Asgard that may be atypical from those on Midgard."

Odin corrected himself, "Earth."

"I got it, Champ." she deadpanned.

Odin cleared his throat and continued, "These also include the laws of trespassing."

Peyton raised one eyebrow, taken aback by such a stern word he used to relate to her. He couldn't possibly be hinting at what she thought he was.

"Trespassing?"

Odin held back no austerity.

"Though you cannot recall how you arrived here, your presence strictly violates the regulations in this respect."

Peyton mouth opened to say something but Odin held his finger up to silence her.

"You disturbed the peace of the nearby village and stole from a local vendor."

"I know but I didn't-"

"The punishment for trespassing in Asgard is imprisonment for a half-year."

"Imprisonment?!" Peyton didn't like how this conversation was going. Most definitely.

"And the penalty for pilfering is much less of course, nevertheless-"

Peyton put her hand up.

"Is your purpose of coming here to arrest me?" she implored forcefully, partially fuddling Odin at her oppressive tone of speech.

The King shook his head, "No. I am here to make an exception."

She leaned back into the burgundy chair and wiped her forehead.

"Oh, thank goodness. Man, you really scared me there. Phhew."

Peyton flashed to Loki. She sat up straight and furled her eyebrows. Her face went dark and she spoke progressively.

"Then. Why. Is. **He. **Here."

She pointed a thin finger at Loki. Intimidated he glanced about uneasily trying not to make eye contact with the small woman.

Odin hadn't been looking forward to this part, "A few months ago, Loki… surfaced on Earth-"

Loki cowered greatly at the mention of his gruesome account, wishing Odin hadn't connotated it.

Peyton screwed her eyes shut and what she uttered was full of empathy, yet sorrow.

"I know. I am aware of what he did…"

Both of them shuffled uncomfortably in their seats.

Loki was ultimately amazed at the child before him, eyes flickering about suspiciously as his blood pounded furiously in his veins with worry. _How is she what aware of what I've done? _

Peyton flashed up, gave Odin a serious stare in his eye, and articulated and stressed every syllable.

"Then what are you here for? Tell me. I am not a stupid child as you may **assume** from my appearance."

Odin stared at her. He was amazed she could decipher his slight prejudice towards the tiny tan-skinned human.

"Yes I'm black, yes I'm small and human…" she added, "and you can probably tell I'm American."

_Correct._ They both thought.

_ "_But, I **am** mature enough to understand whatever it is you need to tell me. No more games."

Odin gave the girl a curt nod; he respected her statement, though not apologizing for his sternness.

"Peyton, In order to resolve this predicament. You must serve for your errors."

Peyton started breathing quicker and croaked, "Alright."

"Nevertheless, I cannot rightly detain a minor."

Peyton nodded attempting to stay calm. _Community service? In Asgard? Fantastic._

"Loki also must atone for his offenses. Which you _somehow_ have been informed of…"

Odin's eyes dashed to Loki, who was inevitably buried into the couch cushions, desperately trying not to look at either of them.

She didn't like where this was going. At all.

This was his least favourite part, but it had to come sometime. "For disciplinary measures, both you and Loki will live here. In Ingamar. For one hundred days."

Peyton's jaw dropped. There was heavy silence for several moments as Odin waited for a hasty objection. Then she blurted out a short bellow of laughter, and pointed a wagging finger in his direction.

"Ha! You're funny, Odin."

After various assortments of snorts and cackles, she covered her mouth and excused herself.

"I'm sorry. Really. You're just face looked so **serious** when you said that."

She snickered a few times more at the King's grave expression.

"Alright, so seriously now, when am I going home, I'm all packed." she said smiling hopefully at them both.

Odin said nothing.

She rolled her eyes and sighed in acceptance. "It's ok if it takes another day or two; I know you're busy being King and all."

She placed a hand on her chest, signifying humility. "I can wait. But no longer, ok, I have somewhere to go Saturday."

Both of their faces were serious. Or at least Odin's was. Loki just appeared terrified.

Her smile disappeared.

_No._

"Woah, woah, woah." she asserted putting up both her hands in defiance, "You cannot be serious, dude. I can't stay here one hundred days. I can't stay another **minute** in this place; I've already been gone too long. I gotta' go home." she said looking despondently from him to Loki.

"Please, no, I've **got **to go home," the little girl pleaded, desolation draining in her voice, "isn't there any other way?"

The King of Asgard merely shook his bearded head in resoluteness,

"I am serious, Peyton. This is the simplest solution. After the one hundred days, Loki will be released and, Peyton, you will be sent back to Earth."

_No._

"Simplest solution?!" she squealed brashly.

"The hell?" she yelled, with an appearance so deadly, Odin was considering taking his leave then and there.

Peyton shook her head and tried to sort things out for herself.

"Ok so let me get this straight. Your messenger tells me yesterday that you were coming with your son to 'deliberate' further about my 'circumstance'." she snapped, putting air quotes around her words.

"I was thinking, 'Oh ok. La-dee-da. Thor and Odin are coming to take me home.' Nobody freakin' TOLD me that that 'son' was going to be LOKI and that you were going to FORCE me to live with him like I'm some sort of convict!" she hollered with fists so tight her knuckles were turning white.

"Peyton—"

"No. Shut up."

Loki face was in absolute horror and gasped. She'd done it now. He'd expected Odin to bellow out a powerful counter and condemn her death for contempt. But, to his surprise, his not-father stayed silent. Possibly out subtle guilt for punishing the young girl. Plus, abusive speech would only make her angrier, and then who knows what she would do to him after his 'protection' had left.

Peyton was shaking her head slowly with paramount incredulity, black eyes as wide as saucers.

"No."

She began to tremble, her breathing was dangerously rapid.

"I…no…I can't..."

She bowed her head, hair spilling over the sides of her face. Unexpectedly, then she lifted it up and screamed, as the realization finally hit her.

"ONE HUNDRED DAYS! YOU'VE GOT TO BE OUT OF YOUR MIND! I CAN'T STAY HERE ONE HUNDRED DAYS! I have a family! A mother! And a sister!"

At the sudden outburst, Loki leapt high in the chair and cowered. The King's heart sank deep into his chest.

She twitched.

"I…I have school…I…I'm going to miss so much work…"

Peyton put her hand to her forehead; her chest was rising and falling violently.

Odin and Loki were frozen stiff.

"I... have EXAMS in a couple of weeks…If I miss them…"

Peyton's eyes widened to utmost proportions.

"I'M GOING TO FAIL TENTH GRADE! HOLY-…"

She panted and twitched some more, her eyes flicked darkly to theirs.

"I'm only sixteen…how can you…" she whispered tearfully, unable to complete her words.

Odin and Loki both looked at each other, then at her.

"What?" she shouted irritated at their gaping.

She didn't know whether they looked at each other because they assumed she was younger or older.

They scanned her up and down with surveying looks.

_Definitely older, blast these matured, feminine…ugh _

Peyton shuddered deciding not to finish her thought and buried her frighteningly-long fingernails into the arms of her chair with a scraping noise. _What am I going to do? WHAT AM I GOING TO DO!_**

"Quit staring at me, damn!"she yelled impetuously at the Asgardians, and instantly their heads pivoted fearfully away from her general direction.

There was a dreadful silence; the only sounds heard were the shrieks of winds blowing, the fire flickering, and her harsh panting.

Out of nowhere, Peyton hollered with a savage cacophony of laughter.

"AND A MURDERER… HAHAHAH…I'M GOING TO SHARE A HOUSE WITH A MUR-HER-HERDERER! YOU'VE **GOT ** TO BE JO-KING!"

Loki craned slightly away from them both, with heartbreaking eyes, as he impossibly crushed himself further into the green furniture.

Odin was genuinely concerned; he had never seen someone go through so many emotions in such a short period of time. Certainly there was something terribly wrong with this human. Loki added 'Possibly maddened.' to his log.

"You've seen him, he's psychological unstable, chemically unbalanced, even!" she said, tapping her forehead. "Trust me, I should know." she muttered under her breath to herself.

Peyton mouth hung open in silence for a moment. Trying to completely discern all that was unfolding around her.

"Don't you suppose he'll like… slit my throat or something within the hour you leave?" she asked with more than a hint of disbelief.

"Loki will not harm you; I have made sure of it."

Loki cringed considerably as he recalled the threat he made to him previously.

"'I have made sure of it'. Yea, uh huh, ok Patchy."***

Peyton buried her face in her hands, quaking, breathing hard again.

They thought she was crying, but when she looked up there was not a tear on her face. She wasn't going to let them see her cry. Not today.

She stood up slowly and sauntered over to the antique credenza situated on the far end of the room near the dining table and opened the top drawer.

Odin's heart raced and clutched the dagger underneath his cape. He didn't think it had to come to that. All of the blood drained out of Loki's face. (Not that you could really tell.)

She pulled out a white plastic capsule and stuck its crooked end in her mouth, still heaving.

Both of their faces were the picture of death.

Peyton pushed the round metal button at its top and some strange gas was released. She held her breath, same as they were doing. And exhaled. She repeated the process a second time and put the plastic machine back into the drawer and closed it. She took a couple of deep breaths and closed her eyes. Gradually, her breathing returned to normal and she slinked over to her chair.

Odin and Loki's eyes were wide with fright and confusion, their mouths ajar.

Peyton sighed at the two demigod's confused faces, "That was my inhaler. I'm asthmatic."

Their blank expressions didn't change.

"It's medicine for humans with lung problems."

Odin closed his eyes, relieved, and let go of his dagger. Loki appeared as though he could faint.

Peyton was done with all that was going on. She was going home if she had to hurt someone to do it.

"Alright old man, obviously you are half-deaf **as well** as half-blind."

His eye widened as she approached him, with serious thumps of her boots on the floors.

"I told your man from the Pony Express that _I_ cannot reasonably explain how I got here. I came here by accident, I was NOT trespassing. And look, I don't have to listen to you; I am not a resident of Asgard. Therefore, Sir Santa Claus (referring to his long white beard).YOU ARE NOT MY KING."

Loki, cringing, added 'Fierce' to his log.

"You are in MY land, therefore I AM your King, and you WILL obey me." Odin roared back.

"Pfft, whatever."

Peyton gazed intently at Loki whose eyes flitted about uneasily, face devoid of all possible signs of life.

She couldn't stand it any longer. She couldn't stand looking at his desperate appearance. She couldn't stand seeing a man who she thought to be the most egotiscal, sadistic, and prideful person ever, reduced to just…nothing.

_How?_ _What was done to him? _

Completely reduced to someone so petrified, that he couldn't simply even look a little girl in the eyes. Why? She didn't know. Worst yet, his own father wasn't doing anything about it. Even though he was to blame for what was happening to her, despite all reason, Peyton was going to do something. Then again, reason wasn't really her specialty. However, maybe it wasn't his fault, no it wasn't. It was all Odin's. Just because someone did something wrong, did mean that **this **was acceptable.

"I can't take it anymore." she cried covering her eyes with her hand.

There was a pause and Odin looked puzzled at the child.

"Take them off."

Odin raised his eyebrow.

"I won't say a thing until they're off."

Now Loki seemed confused.

Her voice dripped with venom, as she uncovered her face and pointed at Loki.

"I order you to remove that muzzle from him. Do it. Take it off **_now._**"

Her eyes had turned so black her pupils were no longer visible.

_What, why? _They both thought.

Odin and Loki took a quick glimpse at each other.

"Maybe it's a common sight for you see grown men in battered muzzles. But it isn't for me. So I'm not asking. Remove it. And remove it now."

Now Peyton was the one giving the orders.

Odin tried to suppress his fidgeting. This mortal was getting on his last nerves. Perhaps it wasn't the best of ideas to leave someone like her in the hands of Loki. Perhaps, he should just find some other way to settle the matter. No. He had already issued his demands. He couldn't take them back. Against his will, suddenly he commanded, "GUARD!"

His voice boomed throughout the house, making both Loki and Peyton practically jump five feet into the air.

Peyton smiled and chuckled, amazed, " can't even remove a muzzle from your own son, there's a king for you." she said raising her hand in a mock-salute.

Only moments later, a tall muscular man with long blonde hair with a majestic red cape busted through the door, an ancient mallet gripped in hand, and roared in a deep, thundering voice,

"IN THE NAME OF ASGARD I COMMAND YOU TO-"

The first prince blinked twice and surveyed the congregation of persons sitting in the living area staring at him with wide-eyes.

He expected to see them fighting or battling amongst each other, when he inquired, "FATHER? WHAT IS THE MATTER? IS EVERYONE ALRIGHT?"

The following event made her want to dismember the mighty thunder god.

Loki squealed(through the mask, mind you),jumped up, and scurried over to the far wall at the sight of his brother and squished himself as far as he possibly could into the corner beside the antique credenza.

Peyton gasped at the sight and turned his head towards the eldest prince, giving Thor the death glare.

Odin muttered, irritated, "Everyone is fine, Thor-"

"Except for him!" The only human in the room shot, pointing at Loki in the corner.

"MY BROTHER?!"

"Hush, Thor, no—"

"Yes!" she interrupted again, "Don't you see him over there? He's petrified!"

Her voice shook. "Remove his muzzle, you ignorant sow!"

"WHAT?!" he glanced about the room of three people of assorted emotions and figures. "YOU DARE INSULT THE PRINCE ASGARD?!"

"ONE of the princes of Asgard!" she countered, piercing him with her black daggers.

Thor turned toward the King in absolute incredulity. "FATHER, THIS MORTAL CHILD IS—"

"**_THOR!" _** his powerful voice banged against the bricks of the cottage and rattled the foundations.

The house fell silent. The King of Asgard inched his forefinger at his son in a come-hither motion.

"BUT—"

"Uh-uh."

Thor looked at his Father questioningly and then at his brother who seemed as bewildered as ever. He approached the King ,who was still seated calmly on the couch, and bent over low near to him. To Peyton's utter disbelief Odin cupped his hand over Thor's ear and began to whisper patronizingly.

"But father—"

And the whispering continued.

Peyton's lip hit the floor and, astonishingly, so did Loki's.

Eventually in turn, Thor shifted his eyes suspiciously, cupped a large hand around his father's ear and began whispering. Peyton squinted menacingly at them, mouth still hanging wide open. They looked like a couple of elementary school children. She couldn't believe it.

"YOU SISSIES DONE YET?"

Their little chitchat ceased abruptly, as they stared at the small, yet intimidatingly loud young woman.

Peyton observed Loki's pusillanimous behavior and issued, "So…you were in on this too, blondie?"

His eyebrows rose exceptionally. He couldn't make head or tails of this child. She seemed to be…siding with his brother.

He plodded past Odin and towards Loki who was wide-eyed with dread.

As Thor reached out to his face, he cowered further into the wall.

Peyton felt like she could cry.

Loki closed his lids, quaking as his brother felt along the muzzle until she saw him press a tiny silver button with a soft click. He attempted to tear the brace from his head forcefully as the youngest's face was writhing with both pain and fear.

"Stop, you're hurting him!" she screamed and she launched herself out of the chair and to the other side of the room, like a bullet, shoving him out of the way with a powerful force and crouching beside the cripple.

All of the movements in the room made the demigod tremble besides the small woman, wishing they would all just go away.

Angered, Thor lifted Mjolnir high over his head, as if he were going to strike Peyton. Loki gasped from underneath the bracket.

Peyton held her fists to her sides, eyes once more turning as black as coal.

"DO IT!" she hollered at a surprising volume.

Thor hesitated.

"DO IT, SPARKY, IT'LL BE THE LAST THING YOU EVER DO!" she yelled, clenching her fingernails, piercing into her own skin in her hands.

Thor didn't understand how a mortal so small could ever in her wildest dreams could even ponder the thought of being the slightest threat to the mighty thunder god. Despite this fact, her large, black eyes emitted so much anger and so many evils that **he** even felt the tiniest bit apprehensive.

He slowly lowered his hammer from behind his head though Peyton could sense he really wanted to send her body flying through the brick wall.

She grinned menacingly, "Yea, I **thought** so."

Peyton turned her attention to frightful Loki, who to her utmost shock, was shaking and had tears in his emerald eyes. Biting her lip, to keep it from tremoring as well she raised a dainty hand to his head.

He closed his eyes tight as a tear slipped down his cheek.

"Hey. It's alright. I'm trying to help you." she said consolingly.

No. He couldn't believe her. She couldn't possible do so.

He felt the touch of her warm finger as she pushed the button on the opposite side of his head. Thor had been so hasty to leave his brother's presence he had forgotten about the second latch. There was another click and a hiss. Peyton took the muzzle in both hands and carefully tried to pry it away from face, watching Loki's face contort in agony.

"I know. I know. I'm sorry." She comfortingly whispered continuously as she worked to get it off. He watched intently as she concentrated with ginormous coffee-coloured eyes pivoting about his face, attempting to remove it as gently and harmlessly as she possibly could.

When it finally detached itself, Peyton this time did not contain her gasp. The sight made her want to give both Odin and Thor one of her perfect judo kicks. The muzzle had embedded itself into the surface of his skin, leaving one, long, deep slit on the outer rims on the bottom half of his face. Several scars surrounding the bleeding gash accented the horrendous visage. His terrorized eyes danced about the concerned child's face, wondering why she had assisted him.

Peyton turned to the equally amazed man standing before her and ordered through tightly-gritted teeth, "Give me the keys to his fetters. Now."

Thor glanced at his father for approval.

The king rolled his eye and accepted. "Do it."

He pulled out a strange key out of a compartment near his breastplate and tossed it in Peyton's direction. Her eyes hadn't left his for a split second as she caught the device somewhat away from her without even taking a glance. Her reflexes astounded him. And frightened him slightly.

She stuck the twisted blade into the lock and turned it. They fell onto his lap in clatter immediately, revealing battered wrists covered in horrid bruises. His eyes dashed about frantically to the other two and finally remained upon Peyton. She bit her full, pink lip again as stared into his eyes which were fighting hard to sustain tears. _Why did she do that? Doesn't she know who I am?_

"What did they do to you?" she whispered to him as she searched his face for answers. Loki said nothing as he stared away from her at the floor.

Suddenly, she wrathfully snatched one of his wrists into her hand, him instantly seizing it away from her fearfully, only to her grabbing it again. Her eyes burned with black fury (take that any way you wish) and her head snapped towards Odin and Thor.

She yelled almost laughing in appalled hysteria, showing them his disfigured wrist. "LOOK AT HIS WRIST! LOOK AT IT! IT'S PURPLE!"

He finally pried his wrist away and stashed it underneath his cloak, drawing away from her. Peyton sighed. She hadn't meant to frighten him.

"What the HELL is WRONG with you guys?!"

The royalty on the opposite side of the room said nothing. She took the chains into her hand and left the prisoner in his corner, knowing he'd rather not be in her company. She tossed the cuffs in Thor's direction, with a rattle, as he had to her.

"Whatever. Get hell out of here Thor." she snarled.

Thor witnessed Peyton's belligerent face and stomped towards the door. He turned momentarily as if to say something to his brother, but didn't as he faced the door and rested his hand on the door-handle.

"Traitor." she stated in an uncomprising voice.

Thor paused, bowed his head slightly then left with a harsh slam of the large wooden door, as she found her way back into her burgundy wingback chair.

Peyton's fierce eyes flicked to Odin, now with his first son gone.

"So…Big Daddy-"

"All-Father."

"That's what I said, Big Daddy-"

Peyton, out the corner of her vision, saw the slightest hint of a twinkle in Loki's eyes for a fraction of a second, then disappeared. She loved that she was irritating Odin immensely. He added 'Impudent' to his log.

"-Like I told you before I'm not staying here. I don't care if you're the king or not." she said bobbing her head back and forth.

"You have no choice." He pronounced. "I control whether or not the Bifrost opens."

Peyton almost said something, then bit her tongue. No matter what she said or what she did, she was stuck and there was nothing she could do about it.

"All right, then…Odieee-"

Odin eyes raged. Loki's little sparkle snuck back again.

"I'll stay, like you said I have no choice." She continued in a fake sigh, rising from her chair and strolled over to the kitchen and leaned against the counter to grab an apple from a large pale-blue fruit bowl.

"But that doesn't mean I have to be a good girl." she said devilishly, spinning the apple on the countertop. The King only stared at the mouthy woman. One so young shouldn't be so…he didn't know what to call it.

She sashayed over to her chair, rolled the fruit around in her palms, and crossed her legs.

"And don't expect me to be here when you get back."

"I should only be so fortunate." Odin shouted, glaring at her with one steely eye.

Peyton dropped her apple with the face of a killer.

_I know he didn't just say that to me._

"Get out. Get out of my house right now!" She exclaimed, pointing at the door.

"Gladly."

He rose and not giving a second look to his son, stamped over to the door.

"Have a glorious sentence, milady."

The door slammed shut.

She stayed seated, shaking in pure mania, fingers boring into the chair.

Loki debated whether or not to bolt out of the house.

Everything was still.

For about five seconds.

Then. She leapt up, opened the door, and scurried outside, hair bouncing.

They had mounted their horses and almost begun to leave.

"HEY THOR!"

The god looked behind him to the tiny figure trying to get his attention.

Even in the distance, he could distinguish Peyton giving him the naughty finger.

"BOUZIN!"

Thor looked, shakenly, to his father, with wide bright blue eyes. He didn't know exactly what "bouzin" meant, or what language it was in, but whatever it was, he knew, couldn't have been good.

"Father, are you for certain that this scheme of yours will be successful? They are **quite** the pair." he said doubtfully.

Odin shook his head, "They may have been some complications, but none that I didn't consider beforehand. It will work."

Settling himself on his saddle he continued, "Unfortunately, they will have many tribulations, nonetheless, if my predictions are correct, this arrangement will, yes Thor, be most successful."

Leaving the tiny brick cottage, they galloped off speedily on their steeds, the dark woods at once swallowing the crowned heads of Asgard whole.

*** Peyton's speech becomes very proper when she is slightly irritated. First phase of 'top-blowing'.**

****** **Finger-nail scraping. Phase two of top-blowing.**

*****Referring to Odin's golden eye-covering. Haha! Got to love Peyton.**

**Say good-bye to Thor and Odin guys. They won't be back for a very long time…**

**_REVIEW!_**


	3. Chapter III--Doomed

OHD is a story of pain, tears, apples, laughter, thievery, knitting, secrets, coffee, embraces, and spasmodic dancing.

**Good evening readers! Again thanks for the review, follows, and favourites! It's Friday and school was cancelled today because it was…cold? Georgia is so stupid. It didn't even snow. But I'm not complaining, enjoy this chapter! 1.25.13**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel so I don't own Loki. I do own Peyton so keep your dirty mitts off! Just kidding.**

**Warnings: Cursing in foreign languages, ranting, and Invader Zim references.**

**Review if you like this! Which I am certain you will(;**

**Chapter III: Day One-Doomed**

-December First, Two-Thousand and Thirteen

"Malpwopte!"

After shouting crude strings of unintelligible curses in the direction of the forest, even after both Thor and Odin were long gone, Peyton applied her palm to her forehead and whined greatly.

She wasn't going home. One hundred days. One hundred days with a murderer. A **murderer.**A thief and a manslayer living in the same house.

She started to freak out as she chanted, "One hundred days. One hundred days. What am I going to do? What am I going to do?! WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?! "

Her breathing became thick and husky and her chest was heaving. She a was having a mini-nervous breakdown.

Her hands shook as she balled them into fist and covered her eyes with that as she cried, "He's going to kill me. He's going to kill me. He is going to kill me! I'll be dead before bedtime! He's going to ki-hill me!"

Peyton whimpered into her hands as she trembled violently and let out a tiny squeal of dread. She had to stay calm. She had to stay sane (as far as that could go for Peyton).

_I have to stay cool. Stay cool, Peyton, or you'll die from a heart-attack before he even gets a chance to kill to you._

The human child shivered in the air as a chilly gust came and stung her face, bringing tears to her eyes.

_Think of the positives._

She tried. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried her hardest but nothing even remotely close to positive came to mind. All she could think about was the sadistic demigod sitting in her house inside. Probably watching her right now.

The girl sniffed and peered through the right window, and there was her Asgardian, crouching in the corner seeming to be glancing about the living room with, surprisingly, great interest, yet still managing to look as frightened as a caged puppy.

Peyton stared at the guarded figure. The mighty Loki Laufeyson, the god of mischief, sitting there with green eyes so wide and innocent and his arms bracing his knees tightly to his chest. Quaking not from cold, but from fear. Certainly not as she had seen in the movies. Suave. Self-centered. Confident. Brewing with evils. Something must have happened since then. Something bad.

As she watched him through the frosted glass, he didn't seem like someone who would be accused of two counts of attempted genocide, and wondered what drove him to such duplicity. Genocide. She a deep animosity for that word. She hated that word as much as she hated the words war, torment, and…well…she just hoped that he felt guilty. Really guilty.

She clenched in her teeth. Just thinking of all of that made her want to throttle him. Just let him try to kill her. Just let him try. Ha! Immortal her foot. After she was through with him, Odin won't be able to _find_ a body to bury. She snickered menacingly at the thought.

_*One hundred days later*_

_ODIN: Where is my son, I left him with you._

_ME: Uh…he went…out…_

_ODIN:Do you mean he's gone?_

_ME(munching): Um…yeah that's one way to say it._

_ODIN: What ARE you eating?_

_ME:Loki McNuggets, want some?_

_Sick._She cackled to herself and shook her head. _Sick. But funny._

Peyton retreated inside the cottage with the great slam of the high arched door (startling Loki), and she tossed herself into her burgundy wingback chair in a weary rage.

"Royal pain in my-oohwah!"she cried digging her talon-like fingernails into her fluffy hair with a crazed look.

She crossed her legs and arms sassily and sucked her teeth in one long peal, "Shtchuuuuuuuuu."

Rolling her eyes, shrugging, and bobbing her head pertly she uttered, "Wapp konn jorge." *

Loki narrowed his eyes, puzzled. _What did she say?_

Peyton caught his confused look and ignored it.

She rolled her eyes again. _Moron._

There was a painful period of silence.

Peyton cleared her throat, uncomfortable in her new predicament. There he still was, smushed up between the wall leading to the bathroom and the credenza, watching her with bugged, green eyes.

She squinted at the cowering demigod, emitting her grueling anger. "The name's **Peyton** if you didn't catch it already." she shot sarcastically.

Loki was still staring at her in frightened disbelief for what she had done for him previously. His chains. The muzzle. Defending him against his brother. He was still questioning whether she'd really done it. Or if he'd just imagined it. Nothing he'd felt that day really seemed real anymore.

"You wanna' take a picture, it'll last longer, slugger." She spat as she leaned down picked up the fallen apple that she had dropped earlier and stood up.

He was observing her every move, waiting at any moment for her to lash at him in a fiery fit.

"Oh here, let me clarify that for you. Please capture a photographic image of my face so that you will no longer feel the need to stare at me."

His eyes lowered.

Peyton began to pace intensely around the living room, causing Loki to flinch slightly ever time she passed him with the clomp of her black, high-calved combat boots on the wood floors.

"Since when is it standard for hierarchal monarchy to unrightly oppress alien citizens?! Without a hearing? A trial? A tribunal?!" she ranted, putting her fingers through her hair.

He furled his brows. Did she not know? Kings could do what they wanted. He wasn't sure what kinds of things they taught children about government on Midgard. Omnipotence. That was why he had wished to rule so terribly…**had** wished.

"My mother. She probably thinks I'm dead. An-and then-"

She giggled.

"And then, if and when I go back to school and everyone goes, 'Where the heck have you been Peyton for the past couple of months?', what am I supposed to say? 'Oh, yeah I forgot to tell you, I was detained on an alien planet with a legendary psycho maniac because I stole some food. Oh there's the bell, see ya' next period!'"

She waved at the fictitious schoolmate.

"They'll think I'm insane!" Her chocolate eyes danced wildly as she slapped her hands upon her little face.

"They'll lock me away forever and I'll spend the rest of my life alone." she sniffed. _All well. Everyone thinks I'm crazy anyway._

Loki was staring at her, blankly. Just waiting for it.

_Even him._

Peyton sighed and ceased patrolling about the living room and considered someone other than herself. She exhaled and rubbed the back of her neck in emotional exhaustion.

_It couldn't be any easier for him._

Peyton shook her head fervently, trying to rid herself of her burning anger, and decided to attempt to be kind. It couldn't hurt.

But then she thought some more. Why should she be nice? She didn't owe **him** anything. Well…then again, he didn't owe **her**anything either. Except for maybe a better explanation. But seeming as though he hadn't shared one word since they met, he wasn't ready to open up to her yet. She had to be patient.

She shifted from side to side in her spot and peered sadly at the wary demigod, and broke the prolonged silence.

_"_Hey…look...I'm sorry. I'm just a bit frustrated that's all…I thought I was going home today…"

He looked guiltily away from her. _It's my fault._

"I didn't exactly expect to be put on house arrest." she added with a smirk.

_One hundred days. That's 3.3 months. 2400 hours. 144,000 minutes. 8,640,000 seconds. With a 's like…forever._

Peyton cupped her hands over her eyes and moaned.

From the corner, he observed her solicitude and panic in fretfulness. He was to blame. And he knew it.

"I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm doomed, I'm doomed, I'm doomed, I'm—"

She stopped abruptly in her anxious chant and stared off into the distance into space momentarily, eyes glazed over. In peril, he watched the word 'doom' ghostly splay across her lips inaudibly.

Unexpectedly, she pivoted her head towards Loki, with the hugest black eyes he'd ever seen, and blurted a single creepy giggle.

"Heehee."

The demigod's emerald eyes were bugged out of proportion, quaking in anticipation. He knew that laugh. It was the laugh of maniac before they did something terrible. He'd done it many a time himself. This was it. She'd finally snapped.

There was a pause. She covered her mouth cheekily with her finger. Another giggle. He swallowed sharply, and the dryness stung his throat.

More silence as the baffled prisoner surveyed her in utter confusion. Loki couldn't think of anything that blatantly amusing about their situation. _What is so funny?_If she was going to try and mutilate him, she was taking an awful long time.

All of a sudden, the small ,exotic-complexioned, human child erupted in such an annoying, abnormally high-pitched voice he believed he was hearing things,

"I'm gunna' sing The Doom Song now!"

He raised an eyebrow. _The Doom Song?_

The said perplexed one was not given another moment to contemplate before she exploded.

(I literally had to listen to this song about seven times to get the lyrics **completely** correct…If you have never heard this song, I advise you do. Or else you will never understand the absolute side-splitting humour. Here. I will be nice and provide a link. Fanfiction dot net doesn't like hyperlinks, specifically Youtube, so you'll have to substitute the word 'dot' for an actual period. youtubedotcom/watch?v=fqcn_TPu4qQ ) **

"Doom doom da-doom doom doom doom DOOM doom doom-doom. Doom doom doom-doom doom doom DOOOOOOM!"

Loki had to slap his hands over his ears in order for his eardrums not to be shattered. He couldn't understand why the child was screaming differentiating influctuations of the word 'doom' and ,specifically, why she was bobbing her head, shaking her hips, waving her arms, and whipping her hair ,spasmodically, in random directions in the middle of the livingroom. It was the most frightening quandary he'd ever experienced in his entire life. He was mortified.

"DOOOM doom doomie-doomie doom da-doom-doom. Doom-da-doom doom doom doom doom. Doomie-da-doom. Doomie- doomie doom. Doom. Doom. Doomie. DOOM-DEE-DOOM DOOM. Doomiedoomiedoom. DOOM-DEE-DOOM DOOM DOOM. Doomiedoomiedoom. Doom."

Precipitously, she ceased shouting and dancing, to shut her eyes and put up her finger as if to silence him. Which, of course, further puzzled the poor thing, considering he hadn't said anything in the first place.

"Doom doom doom. The End."

According to the concluding words, Loki assumed she had finished her _interesting_performance, as she turned towards him and gave him a triumphant bow.

Peyton threw her hands in the air and exclaimed, "Tada!"

Her animated expression faded slightly as she witnessed Loki's petrified countenance with his eyes the size of your average softball.

She snickered and grinned bashfully. "I suppose you think I'm crazy now, huh?"

His jaw been had extended all the way to the floor.

She bit her lip and chortled. _Oh definitely._

"Please excuse my outburst, I thought since the context was appropriate, that it would cheer you up. But I see I only succeeded in scaring the bloody crap out of you. Sorry."

Loki embarrassedly looked away from her, avoiding all possible eye contact with her.

Peyton gritted her teeth at the sight of the poor man. If "The Doom Song" couldn't brighten his mood, then what would? _What the hell has made him so freaking sad?_

She stomped her foot on the ground in childish anger. _It isn't fair._

"Ooh! That washed-up, repugnant, mindless, monkey-faced, lily-livered, half-witted, wanking, simple-minded, impertinent, dung-eating , boot-licking, pratty, pugnacious piece of pish! That **stee-upid** king!"she snarled at full volume, baring her unusually pointed canines. She panted harshly, relieving herself of all of her stored feelings that were screaming inside of her to be released.

(You don't know how long that took me to cook up.)

Loki peered up at her and his eyebrows raised immensely. _Impressive._

Peyton scratched the back of her head with a figurative sweatbead appearing on her brow.

_"_Sorry, I needed to get that last one out. British comedic literature does things to ya'." she smiled embarrassingly and cleared her throat.

Loki only stared puzzled at her with wide clear, green eyes. Wasn't she going to try and hurt him or something? Surely, she felt the same way about him. And she seemed like she was certainly in the…maiming semblance. At least from what he could tell.

She stared at the shivering frame, still in a stance like a terrified cornered animal. Poor thing. He looked so…fragile. As if someone mentioned 'Thor' he would jump fifty feet in the air.

"Uh…You can still…sit on the couch." she said pointing to the green piece of furniture in the center of the room.

His eyes flicked to the sofa, to her, and then the floor, obviously still winded from Peyton's concert.

"Really you can, it's much more comfortable than the corner." she coaxed.

It was true; his limbs were killing him on the hardwood floorboards.

Loki struggled to stand, gritting his teeth in pain as he stood. Peyton pinched her lips together.

"You can't walk well can you."

It was more of a statement that a question. To it, he still said nothing.

"Here."

The small figure approached him; instinctively he drew a step back.

"No look."

She slowly reached out and took his arm. Reluctantly he attempted to pull away, but she instead draped it over her little shoulders.

"Ready?"

What was she doing? Was she going to...help him?

Peyton assisted him across the room, trying hard to support his weight as they crossed the living room. His frame was exceptional tall, towering far over her, and very bony, not to her surprise, and hobbled with a terrible limp. His body was unusually light,still shaking, and felt like he was holding off from leaning on her, perhaps out of fear of crushing her. Or just plain fear in general.

With difficulty, she helped him over to the sofa where he gingerly sat; even the short distance to him was tiring. Loki peered upwards at the tiny stranger,his green eyes glowing brightly, confused at her kindness. _Why?_One such as he didn't deserve such treatment.

Because he was a monster.

Peyton sensed his reluctance, looked at him back with an equally puzzled gaze.

She'd just aided a perfect stranger. A stranger known for evil at that. Yet she stared at him, stared hard.

_Why did I do that?_

It was so un-Peyton. She didn't do things like that. She didn't help other people. It just isn't a thing thieves do.

Even for herself, she couldn't put a finger on it.

Maybe they weren't completely doomed. Not just yet anyway.

She grinned devilishly showing the cute little gap between her front two top teeth.

"Doom doom da-doom doom—"

Loki cringed, burrowing himself into the sofa. _Not again._

***It's a common phrase of vindication or getting even (in a language I won't tell you) meaning ,literally, "You'll get what's coming to you." generally used like the English phrase , when people shake their fists and say, "One of these days…" or perhaps "I'll get even."**

****Credit goes to Nickelodeon or whoever happens to own Gir. I totally would.**

**_REVIEW!_**

**You know you want to. 4.9.13**


	4. Chapter IV--Apples

OHD is a story of pain, tears, apples, laughter, thievery, knitting, secrets, coffee, embraces, and spasmodic dancing.

**Hey guys! This is one of my more…solemn chapters where you get to see a little more into Loki's head. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel. Really I don't.**

**Warnings: Apples, flopping fish, and broken glass so wear your boots!**

**Chapter IV: Day One—Apples**

**-**December First, Two-Thousand and Thirteen

She left his presence after completely another fear-provoking rendition of "The Doom Song" and strolled smoothly into the kitchen area, leaving an wide-eyed and mentally-scarred Loki to further cower on the couch.

"Hey...um, are you thirsty?" she said reaching for a couple of glasses in the cabinets, attempting to calm down. "I know it must have been a long journey…"

He was terribly parched. In fact, the dryness of his throat was actually painful. But Loki said not anything and kept gazing at the floor.

Peyton felt a lump grow in the pit of her stomach. He still wasn't talking to her. How long will he stay mute? _Why won't he talk?_

"You can speak now ya' know, your muzzle's off of you and your dad's gone." She said pouring water in a glass. She walked over to him and reached out the water to him. He looked up at her.

"It's from a well."

He peered over the glinting glass.

"I mean...It's from a well, but I boiled it afterwards…I'm a city girl I know how to fix tainted water." She said with a smile.

He glanced repeatedly from the glass to her.

"Oh yeah, by the way I dropped you a Mickey. I hope you don't mind."

He didn't know what exactly that was, yet out of habit, he shuddered back into the couch with a gasp.

"I'm just kidding," she giggled, "I didn't drop you a Mickey. There's nothing in the water, I promise."

He continued to glare at the glass.

_He doesn't trust me._

She had an idea. He watched walked back over to the counter and poured half of his water into another glass. She picked up the second glass and came back over to him. She gulped down her water and held out the second cup.

The mortal. She was offering him water.

He was completely baffled. Hadn't she just been ready to stab someone a minute ago?

Loki had a strange foggy aura, like he was in some sort of dream. And knew that soon he would awaken in the darkness, as he did every day, and still be chained to a jagged palisade inside of a deep icy cavern…thinking himself alone…only to face the…

He squinted his lids closed…He would wake up and it be all over. Perhaps when he touched the glass, it would all fade away. The bright and airy apparition to just dissipate hazily to mere shadows and ominence before his eyes.

His eyes darted about her gracious, obliging face for a few moments, searching for any outward effects of distress from poisoning. She was patiently standing there, perfectly well. He slowly and shakily reached out and took it.

As the frigid glass chilled more against his cool, thin fingers, Loki waited for the room to go fuzzy…all the lights to dim, for his world to black out once again. But nothing happened.

He observed her face again just in case.

The glass quivered in his bony hand as he drew it to his lips.

Peyton wondered how long it had been since anything directly touched his mouth. Being underneath a rusty silver muzzle for who knows how long. The proceeding event answered that.

So used to having a metal obstruction against his face, he tipped the glass upward and miscalculated the distance to his mouth, spilling the water in his lap, simultaneously dropping the glass to the floor, shattering it into a dozen shards. He drew his arm across his face as if she thought she was going smack him for breaking the glass.

Peyton's heart shattered along with her now smashed cup.

She went over to the kitchen and drew out a box from underneath the sink along with a dry rag and came over kneeling by the couch. Loki crouched back, eyes begging for mercy as he believed breaking something was punishable by death.

"Hey,It's alright…it's okay, look." She opened the box and began depositing the large pieces into the box where other shards of broken glass also were. He looked a bit confused.

"See…it's for a project I'm doing…I like to make things out of broken glass...Silly, I know," she closed the lid.

"So, if anything you helped me, I needed some more curvy pieces anyway." She said smiling handing him the dry cloth. He hesitantly dabbed his chin and lap. When he had finished she held out her hand for the rag and began soaking up the surrounding puddle of water on the floor. She picked up the box and stood.

"No bare feet until I finish cleaning this up okay?"she insisted kindly, wagging her finger.

He nodded ever so slightly, almost…unintentionally.

_Why is she being so gracious towards me? Is she mad?_

Oh yes. It was definitely a dream. But why does it seem so real?

He continued to debate and doubt the origins of the distorted reality he seemed to be living as she glided over to the sink and put away the box of broken shards. She poured yet a new glass of water and split it again.

Loki noticed for the first time that Peyton drifted around in light tip-toes wherever she went. As if she was comfortably content with touching the floor as little as possible. And that was before he had even broken the cup, plus she was wearing heavy boots.

_Odd woman._

She tipped-toed over to him.

"Let's try this again." she giggled.

She drained her glass and handed him the other. He waited once more for Peyton to fall on the floor in a spasm, and when she didn't, he warily grasped the glass and brought it to his lips. Mischievously she grinned. _Maybe I can't make him talk…perhaps I can make him laugh. Since "The Doom Song" didn't work after all._

She decided to play around with this one.

Peyton clutched her throat and choked agonizingly, and bent over. Loki gasped and almost dropped the glass again. She wretched around on the ground like a fish taken from the ocean. Her sputters eventually turned into snickers and cackles, as she wrapped her hands about her belly and howled as he squinted menacingly at her.

She realized her little feat to him wasn't very amusing. Possibly offending to him. She'd taken advantage of his natural, unfortunate distrust of people. She felt bad for deriding him and apologized.

"I'm sorry. I was just playin' Loki, " she laughed as she beheld his scowl as she was sitting on the floor after her dramatic performance.

"Seriously there's nothing wrong with the water. I promise on my life that will never try to poison you as long as you're here."

Peyton gave him a reassuring smile and held up her right hand, "I promise."

"If there's anything that'll kill you, it's my cooking, and that's without any extra ingredients." she snickered under her breath.

Loki sighed. That wasn't necessarily reassuring. He took tiny sips from the glass, not taking his eyes of her, with drops falling back in his lap now and again. Pausing between swallows lest it really was tampered with.

He drank the water offered to him and let it soothe his dry, scratched throat. He was amazed by how delicious the liquid was. Only to be described almost as a sheen sweetness. He'd never really appreciated the simple flavor of water before. Now its perfection momentarily eased his troubled mind as its clean feeling cooled his belly. How simple, how pleasing, how…almost…forgiving the water was…Perhaps the girl was a conjurer and transformed the drink into something…beautiful. For there was no rational way to illustrate how lovely it felt inside of him.

After waiting for him what felt many death-dealing hours but was only a couple of minutes, he had finished, and she took the glass.

His eyes read the greatest gratitude and confusion.

"You're welcome." she grinned.

She went into the bathroom and came back with a small towel.

"You dripped it a bit." she offered it and went back to into the kitchen...

_Man,if he looked as happy as he did just to have some water, he must be starving too._

Peyton fiddled with the blue ceramic fruit bowl on the countertop.

"Are ya' hungry?"

She tossed a ripe apple into the air and caught it.

"I..uh, heard you like apples…" she said seductively as she spun it in her palms.

_How does she know that?_

He watched her fling the fruit up and down in the air a couple of more times.

Her cat-eyes sparkled as she caught it for the final time and his eyes stopped on her.

"Want one?" she asked, her lips pursed slightly to the side.

He wanted one terribly.

He glanced to the floor.

_Is this going to be a regular thing with you, man? Am going to have to force it down your throat or something?_

She slid over to him, apple in hand.

"You know you waaant iiitt." she sang.

He stared at the shiny red apple.

She had purposefully grabbed the juiciest one in the bowl. It was torturing him. She knew it.

Peyton waved it in his face, "Hungry? Huh?"

He didn't budge.

_Oh, pooh with you._

She sighed disappointedly and sauntered back over to the counter.

Loki came to attention when he heard rolling on the wooden floor. He glanced downwards as something touched his foot. An apple stopped at his heel. Peyton was washing a glass in the sink, trying to appear innocent by whistling a jazzy tune. Loki tried his hardest to stop an inkling of tiny smile from snaking across his gaunt face, and succeeded, though horribly. Peyton sniggered in her head as she pretended not to notice. She went over a picked it up, him shying his foot away from her. She had yet one more idea.

"Not hungry huh."

Loki heeded for the hundredth time, the floor.

She exhaled, pretending to be tired of trying, "Guess not."

Peyton waltzed over to the dining room table (or every room table) and planted the juicy red apple on the edge of it.

She pointed her head in the direction of the staircase. "If you need me I'll be upstairs, kay-kay?"

He nodded again ever so slightly.

Peyton treaded up the stairs, swinging her hips sultrily, up to where he assumed her room to be. He wondered what sorts of things she had up there…

The attic. Her room. Any one taller would have had to crouch to enter the doorway unscathed. The ceiling was only six feet tall, the room less than eighty square feet; needless to say, it was very cramped. It wasn't very commodious, but for a person as tiny as her, she managed. There was but a single window which flooded the entire little space with light. Her bed was only a couple of layers of blankets on the cold floor, beside it an oil lamp, her knapsack that she had with her when she first arrived in Asgard, and a daintily placed cognac leather-bound diary with a black pen on top.

Peyton hunched down over her 'bed', opened her diary, and began to scribble furiously. What was different about her diary than she thought most others viewed their diaries was that she viewed it as a person. The diary even had a name, Mary-Bell. A strange name, she knew, but it held sentimental value. When Peyton was eight years old, she got her first journal and had what she called a "diary faerie" named Mary-Bell. Her 'faerie" was someone who she wrote to and would file her secrets away where no one could find them. Whenever she completed an entire book and bought/received a new one, she referred to it as if Mary-bell was 'moving apartments'. Though she was older now, and no longer believed in faeries, she wrote to her like someone would an old pen-pal and held nothing back from her friend. Now, more than ever she needed her to talk to.

After taking a couple minutes to write to Mary-Bell, closing with a complimentary greeting, she'd almost forgotten about her scheme. Peyton rolled off of her blanket, grunted as she stood, careful to avoid stepping on her pillow, and meandered over to the window. She unhooked the little metal latch, and swung it open with a low creak. It was still a blistery afternoon, and was almost knocked backwards by the winds. Her window faced the field and a few meters away, the east side of the forest.*

Peyton shivered and rubbed her shoulders. _Here goes nothin'._

She climbed onto the ledge and with a deep breath, leapt out of the two-story window with a form like that of a spectacular dive, her hair trailing above her.

With cat-like agility and accuracy, she landed precisely on all fours, silently, without a single scrape to show for it.

_I love it when I do that._

Hugging and rubbing her elbows she treaded around the house and came to the front right window, careful to avoid piles of dead leaves. On her tiptoes, she gradually raised her head and peered through the frosted window, only her huge, russet eyes hovering over the sill, still visible.

There he was sitting on the sofa still staring intensely at the apple on the table across the living room.

Peyton covered her mouth to stop from giggling. Isolation temptation. It was working. As a thief, she felt the same tug of enticement many times herself when alone with something she desperately desired.

"Come on…take the bait, man..." she whispered.

Meanwhile…

Loki was having an intense mental debate on whether or not he should take it.

_It could be poisoned…Rotting inwards with some dreadful venom…No, it can't be...She promised...Wait, what's wrong with me, what worth has a mortal's promise…She couldn't rightly provide me with sustenance…she couldn't…or maybe she could…possibly…_

Following the wait of several more freezing minutes, Peyton cursed herself for not taking a blanket with her. She didn't think it was going to take so long. Her body trembled as bitter gust swept by, lifting hundreds dead of leaves into the air. Shaking violently, she closed her eyes and sniffled, and wiped her face with her sleeve, eventually forgetting she was even standing.

Her lids flashed open as she saw him struggling to stand.

_Yes._

He limped weakly over to the dining table. But before he could reach it, he stumbled and fell harshly with a horrible thud. Pain rippled across his face as he struggled to lift himself up.

Seeing that, Peyton wanted to punch something. Hard. Like K-O hard.

_Poor thing._

His cloak had fallen forward, and for a second Peyton saw thick, horrid whelps on his lower back.

Peyton covered her mouth in a gasp. _Holy-_

He pried himself upwards, over to the table and tried to stable himself as he almost fell again.

He feebly lifted up the apple and observed it.

_Eat it._

He brought it to his face.

_Yees?_

Unexpectedly, he set it back on the table in what she thought was distaste.

_Noo!_

"No!" she shouted, cupping her mouth.

Instantly he flashed in her direction as she disappeared, crouching underneath the ledge. Her breath went quicker.

_Imbecile, you stupid girl, shut up!_

Peyton fearfully lifted her head and looked through the window again. Thankfully he hadn't seen her.

He staggered over to the kitchen with the thud of his heavy leather boots. There was a slimmer of hope. He contemplated the fruit bowl with great interest and began taking out the apples one by one.

_What the heck is he doing?_

After he had taken out every piece of fruit out of the bowl, he picked up the last apple. He smelled it. She suppressed yet another giggle. He glanced about him as if he had to do it in secret. He considered it and hesitantly began to nosh it, with more childish delight than she he had seen on his face thus far.

_Yaaaaay! Success!_

When he had finished, he to put the massacred core, without so much a minuscule bit of apple left on the stem, onto the counter away from the other fruit. He grasped a yellow spotted apple to begin to put it in the bowl, when he stopped and beamed at it admiringly. He once more surveyed his surroundings, and starting munching it. Peyton grinned ear to ear.

_A two-fer!_ _Yeah baby!_

Eventually he consumed the savory fruit; he placed the core next to the first one. His face dripped of guilt as if he had committed some serious wrong-doing, as he began placing the rest of the apples back into the bowl. It wasn't until he finished that Peyton noticed he had arranged them exactly as they were before he'd removed them. Somehow, he had remembered their precise order and found a way to hide the holes where the two he'd eaten should have been. She couldn't even tell he'd taken any. Peyton smiled.

_Nice trick, wise guy._

Her smile disappeared though as stuffed the two cores inside of his cloak and limped painfully over to the couch. She knew he wanted more.

_How long had it been since he's been fed? Days? Weeks?_

Peyton swallowed harshly and grimaced.

_Months?_

She stooped to the ground and crawled all the way to the other side of house to where the open window was above the sink.

Peyton was thankful that the couch faced opposite the kitchen. Unbeknowst to him, she carefully climbed through the window and slid her bum off of the countertop until little feet touched the floor. She tiptoed across the kitchen over to the sofa, without a single sound.

"Still not hungry, huh?"

Loki shouted and leapt up from his seat in a panicked fright. The two browned apple cores fell from his cloak and he gasped. Peyton's eyes widened.

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to scare you." She took a seat on the end of the forest green couch and smoothed the wrinkles in her light-wash jeans, as innocent as ever.

He glanced frantically from the stairs to where she sat.

_Where did she come from? How did she sneak up on me?_

Peyton leaned over and picked up the fallen apple cores, went and tossed them out the kitchen window. Loki sighed.

_The window._

He sat, amazed at her feat. She was smarter than she looked, despite the slightly…deranged things she did.

She looked out of the window, not facing him, "I know. 'Not many people can sneak up on me.' I guess I'm the exception. "

His mouth was slightly ajar.

_How is she aware that I have said that?_

Peyton took the black scrunchie out of her hair, her long, shining locks falling past her shoulders. She put it on her wrist and spun around, tip-toed over to the table, her hair sweeping her back, and picked up the apple she had left for him.

"Loki, you knew this apple wasn't poisoned…didn't you?"

She took a bite, wiping some of the juice from her chin.

Loki said nothing, only shamefully glancing at the floor.

Peyton sighed. "I promised I would never poison you."

"I know I'm a 'mortal' and all…"

He looked up.

"But, I never break my promises…whether you believe that or not is up to you."

She took another munch of the fruit and swallowed.

"Oh and Loki?"

He peered down at her apprehensively, at her into her deep,brown eyes. **

She scratched her scar on her wrist uncomfortably. He realized the scar was rough, scabby, and slightly purple, as if it were a monstrous rash.

"Um...ya' know…You don't have to hide…food…from me."

He avoided her gaze, full of guilt.

"Hey, look at me."Peyton said kindly.

He obeyed, disgracefully.

"When it comes to certain things…"

She rolled her apple awkwardly in her thin palms.

"When it comes to food…what's mine is yours. That's my rule."

His face softened.

She gripped her elbow and rubbed it bashfully and admitted,

"I just…I can't **stand** someone being hungry around me…It's…I don't know…I guess it's a kind of sensitivity I have…"

She leered him straight in the eyes.

"You don't have to be embarrassed about eating here, okay?"

Loki nodded solemnly. Though it was a simple sentence she had spoken, compared to how he had been treated before, he could only describe her clemency as…

_Incredible._

What was it about her? Why was she ever concerned at all about him? What did he matter at all? Are humans just naturally…more sympathetic? No. That wasn't true. Yet, she as none **he'd **ever met before.

Peyton remembering his fondness with the apples and pointed at the light-blue fruit bowl, "You want some more?"

His emerald eyes sparkled as they filled with the greatest of joy.

She brought him the bowl brimmed with apples.

Peyton gave him a warm,comforting grin.

He gave a tiny smile back.

***Opposite the one Odin and Loki came from. They came from the west.**

**** I apologize ,readers, that I'm using his eye movements as replies to Peyton, {how do you think I feel, I've used the words 'looked' and 'gazed' about sixteen hundred times so far} but I can't really do anything else until he starts talking….really sorry just bear with me please?**

**Did you read that! HE SMILED, PEOPLE! **

**_REVIEW!_**


	5. Simply a Very Annoying Note

An Author's Note:

Hello my dear readers. Don't hit me. I do apologize. Most likely, as a fanfition reader, you despise these letters. So I am sorry to have subject you to another one. For those of you who are less patient and prefer only to know the main point: I will be updating the next chapter this weekend, therefore, do not worry. For those who are still reading this, let me begin my...'proposition'. Huh? That's a name of the second chapter? Oh...well...nevermind.

Anyways. To make a long story short, my story is in terrible need of revision. For those of you who may not think so, thank you. I appreciate it. For those of you who are more critical, shut the heck up. Sorry. *clears throat* I am a new writer so, yes, it was going to eventually come to this. I know that so far I have only up to Chapter VI posted. (Thank goodness or else the lack of depth in my later chapters would make the majority of you cry.) I am now on Chapter XX as of yet but is still quite bland. Consequently, I will be editing much of the dialogue, description, and overall 'feeling' of the chapters. Basically grammar, adjectives, and character depth. The majority will stay the same though, so any changes won't really be recognizable. I was only posted that this so that those who are more observant and DO catch any modifications in I - VI won't think they're crackers.(:

So yeah, I'll be just be cleaning up some things quickly so that we can move on and forget any of this ever happened. *A brown skinned girl pops up and waves hands mysteriously in your face*

"OoohhoOO!"

Peyton stop. You're scaring my readers.

"Sorry."

You have to excuse her, that's my fictitious twin.

"Except I'm more fun."

Shut up. Alright, I believe my over-complicatied explanation is complete. Thank you for reading this and sorry for have gotten your hopes up for a new chapter.

"Because you've just got SOOO many followers..." *rolls eyes*

Shut the friggen' heck up, Peyton. I will get more followers AND REVIEWS so there.

"Uh huh...you just have to fix everything because your story is so lame. Wait, did I just insult myself?"

Yep. Well that is everything my lovlies, see you this weekend!

"Bye!" *waves frantically*

Cordially, "And affectionately,"

PetiteElefant and Peyton

P.S.-This note will be removed once next chapter is updated...or I may keep it for humor's sake...it depends. *wink*

***EDITING FINISHED***


	6. Chapter IV and a Half--A Return

OHD is a story of pain, tears, apples, laughter, thievery, knitting, secrets, coffee, embraces, and spasmodic dancing.

**I lied about Thor and Odin not coming back. And yes. The title does say 4.5. Because I just sporadically decided to add this little snippet in between chapters IV and V and I REALLY didn't feel like renumbering all of my chapters all the way up to XXI. So this guy next to me in my Business Data class heard me ranting at myself and was like "Why don't you make it chapter 4.5 so you don't have change everything?" At first I was like, "No that's a stupid idea!" then I thought about it and replied "Hey…you know what? That's actually pretty smart. It'll add a bit of humour, right? I think I'll even credit you." So yes, thanks to Shawn from third period, here is Chapter IV ½. (I sorta' thought of Lion King 1 ½ )**

**My greatest and deepest thanks for the follows, faves, and a splendid review from rockefellerjaws! You've no idea how happy it makes me! I know I'm an entire week late for updating. You are justified to fling any fruit you happen to possess. I can only blame procrastination, an essay, and geometry homework. Plus I wanted to finish editing I-III. Anyway, here's the next chapter**! **2.9.13**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel or Loki. Just Peyton, kay-kay?**

**Warnings: An angry Queen, a tired King, and a depressed Prince. Please be careful.**

**Chapter IV and a Half: Day One—A Return**

-December First, Two-Thousand and Thirteen

King Odin plodded through the magnificent halls of the Palace, exhausted from his extensive voyage through the dense mountainous regions through Asgard. He was monstrously ravenous and was quite prepared to enjoy whatever extravagant feast he would taking part in that evening. He languidly entered into his chambers to change into more suitable attire when he came face to face with his wife, who was sitting sternly on their bed, legs and arms crossed defiantly with a scowl so insidious it even intimidated the All-Father, striking his inner core.

With blue eyes so violently stormed they could wreck the sturdiest of ships, she queried with fake politeness, "I assume your expedition successful, my lord?"

Odin tried to keep hesitation from his voice as he sluggishly replied, "Yes. Indeed it was, Frigga."

She stood gracefully at his answer, her long, silvery gown lying in rivers around her feet as she confronted her wary husband. "I presume the arrangement went well?"

The King mentally gulped. _Not exactly as I intended._

"Yes ,my dear, lucrative and according to plan." he lied, giving a nod of false accomplishment.

The Queen of Asgard offered a bright, confident smile as she approached him, dress shimmering as it swept the majestic floors as she supplied in honeyed tones, "Ahh, I see. As all of your _exceptional_ stratagems go, yes?"

Odin was caught slightly off-guard by his wife's seemingly off-colour compliment of his brilliant designs. He decided not to let her shrewd sweetness bother him any longer. He was tired and was in need of some much destitute sleep. Much of which was robbed of him many nights of being plagued by worried thoughts of the outcomings of his adoptive son.

"Of course, Frigga."

The tall beautiful woman drew near to the god and placed a light hand on his broad shoulder, face as angelic as ever, and rested her head on his arm, flowing ringlets of her blonde, curly locks brushing his chest. "I suppose you are weary, it has been quite the eventful day…"

Undeniably it had been, facing his way-ward son for the first time in months, traveling countless miles to Ingamar, enduring the most rude, fiercest little human he'd ever met, directing deemingly harsh punishment against the child, and then voyaging all the way back to the palace. Indeed he was weary. That was enough to tire even the most powerful god of Asgard out. Though probably debilitating health and lack of rest contributed much to his somnolence.

The King gave a drained look to Frigga and replied exhaustedly, "As a matter of fact, I am, exceedingly."

His wife removed her head from his shoulder and gave a consoling grin and a gentle, comforting pat to his cheek . Though she would have preferred to smack it.

"You have done well, my lord. Exceptionally well." Then was a minor pause as she gritted her teeth angrily beneath closed lips. "No doubt you are tremendously famished from your extensive journey—"

"Much."

"Good. Let us then prepare for dinner."

And with that, Odin went to the Changing Room switch into more proper clothing while she sat on the end of the bed, vigilantly devising her every word carefully in her mind for the proceeding conversation.

With the King now properly dressed for their meal, Frigga approached him before leaving their chamber together when she piped up, as if she had forgotten something of little importance and finally recalled it,

"Oh. And how fares our son, Odin? I had not gotten the chance to speak with him."

Odin spun his head and looked at her with a bit of alarm. He tried to cover his inner anxiety, and casually responded with a shrug, "Oh, Thor? He fares well. I suppose he is off in the gardens somewhere. He had been very reserved today and I believe prefers to be alone."

Frigga lightly giggled and shook her head and implored with sugar-coated words, "No ,dear Odin, I do mean **Loki**…our _other _son."

Odin froze, heart beating rapidly.

"He is fine. Well, as fine as one can feasibly be after being imprisoned." he insisted, trying dreadfully to avoid the subject. "Shall we go?"

The Queen's dainty nose flared in irritation, but an act so quick and minuscule so as not to be detected by her husband. Her blood was boiling ferociously under the smooth, cool silk of her garb. She knew he had not just been imprisoned. What had been done was much, much worse.

She resumed with motherly innocence, blanketing her hot undertones,

"But, he did not seem so _well_ ,Odin…he looked rather pale—"

"Loki has _always_ been pale,Frigga." he inserted tersely, rather annoyed at her bringing up his disappointment once more.

She sighed in fake exasperation. "Oh I know. But he appeared rather _different,_ wouldn't you say?"

Frigga didn't let Odin answer as she continued,

"I do hope the guards had been treating him correctly. I gave them strict instruction to do so."

"There ARE prison guards, my love. Their purpose is not to be kind."

"I am _aware _of this, Odin." She accidently allowed some of her heat to slip out from underneath her. She had to stay calm. All of the burns for justice and fiery infernos of maternal instincts were lighting her fuse. She had to stay calm and keep control until she extracted what she wanted. What she needed to know.

She decided to apologize for her flames. "I am sorry, Odin, am I deeply worried for him…" Her voice sorrowfully trailed off and Odin felt deep chest pains once more. Guilt. Misery.

He gave a painful smile. "As any mother should be."

Odin headed towards the doors leading out of their grand room, and while his back was turned Frigga gave him a hot, stoic glare. She felt the tips of her hair magically leap at her sweltering anger. _Any__** father**__ would inform his wife of brutal, unfair dealings with their son!_

Before he could reach the exit, Frigga stole his hand, and as he revolved his head to look at her, her eyes gleamed with sadness and utter despondency.

"**Was **he well taken care of?"

The King hastily searched her face in perplexity.

"Was he?" Her eyes pleaded.

His heart was stabbed over with many pains as he replied, "Yes.", breathlessly.

Her veins harded within her. More lies.

He left her presence and marched through the doors and paraded into the adjacent hallway. Frigga flew after him and strided hastily alongside the bothered King down the corridor, who was keeping absolutely silent.

Frigga, once more, broke the peace between the two crowned heads of Asgard.

"I had supposed his sentence over-with after being detained for such a time—"

Odin peered at her with one apprehensive eye.

"He was oh-so missed…and now he is gone from us again…"

The King's heart stopped. _Again? _Did she know about the-

"Again?"

Frigga stared into his single steely eye, sighing in contempt. "Yes, again, Odin. Being contained in the dungeons below isn't something necessarily to be viewed as 'being in our presence'. Now he's far from us, living with a human child."

He gave himself a mental sigh of relief and a wipe of the forehead.

"It was my plan all along to do so; I did not mean to keep it from you."

Oh so many more lies. She knew perfectly well that the girl had only arrived a few days ago. And the 'I did not mean to keep it from you' was pure rubbish. That was the icing on the cake. _The mendacious fiend._

Her eyes were sharp, her skin was searing, and her voice was particularly scalding,

"I presume it was **also **your intention to vacate our son to another realm without my consent."

Odin ceased abruptly in his tracks and simultaneously glanced at the woman beside him of whose gaze was menacingly penetrating while the tips of her hair gave the illusion of being aflame.

There was only one way to disregard her remark. And unfortunately that way was to tell more detouring untruths.

"Thor had to be taught a valuable lesson about people."

Her tresses sparkingly jumped on her head, the fire ever ascending as she cried, "For the final time, I AM NOT SPEAKING OF THOR!"

Odin drew back in fright.

"WHY MUST EVERYTHING CONCERN HIM?!"

* * *

A young demigod was roaming the palace gardens, deep in concentrated thought. (As far as that can go with Thor ) He sat down upon the chilled stone of a rippling fountain, listening to the crickets chirping their songs into the early evening and the soothing trickle of the dribbling water beside him.

It reminded him of the nights he and his brother would sneak under the noses of the security of the palace to search for frogs in the fountains and amongst the bushes. Only to caught be a watchman, dragged to their parents chambers, leading muddy footprints down the hall, soaking wet from one of them pushing the other in, only to grab the one and wrestle in the water with him. They of course always returned, heavily defeated without a single frog to show for it.

Thor laughed pleasantly at the memory, quickly to dissipate and turn solid cold like the marble beneath him. Leaving dry cracks in the stone of his heart. Loki. His brother. So different now. So much had changed. For the past several months his life seemed empty. Any happiness received soon disintegrated without having one to share it with. Feeling an overall sense of numbness, killing his every emotion.

What was worse. He was partially to blame. Loki always felt like he was in his shadow. Not that he kept him there purposefully. It was just…he never seemed to really notice it. Until it was much too late. A brother with a hardened heart. He would have never done all of those horrendous things he had only been….accepted.

He put his iron fists firmly about the rim of the stone, letting it cool his hands; he watched the soft reflection of the winter moon dance below. Turning his body to the side, his stuck his finger in the icy water, wading it about and watching the ripples skate across the surface until they reached those coming from the heavy trickle and were pushed out of existence.

He sighed dismally and his breath appeared in white clouds in front of his nose. It was freezing and if he knew what was better for him, he would be inside where it was warmer. But being inside meant being around people, his parents. His father. And for some strange reason that was the last person he wanted in his company. Odin. His father had done something terrible to his brother and he'd assisted him. And for the first time in what seemed like eternity he had seen him again. Only as a mere shell of his past self, vacant of any real soul. Broken.

Guilt poured in from the top of his head and swept in waves, not unlike the ones in the pool of water, down to his feet, washing over him. Loki would never forgive him for what he'd done. They could never be friends again. True brothers.

Thor was thrown out of his sullen reflection as his head flashed towards the direction of the palace; he'd heard his name being screamed. Startled, he stood and shook his head fervently. He knew the voice. It was his mother. Breaking into a run, he left the babbling fountain and exited the whimsical gardens.

**Thank you for your patience! **

**_REVIEW!_**


	7. Chapter V--Books

OHD is a story of pain, tears, apples, laughter, thievery, knitting, secrets, coffee, embraces, and spasmodic dancing.

(**I actually had to come back and fix this chapter…after I learned about Norse Runes. I actually thought the ancient language used was Norwegian. Because I'm stupid. You'll see what I'm talking about in a minute.)**

**Hi guys! Thank you for the reviews! I will always reply to them before entries now! Always!**

**Replies:**

**Sparki11—Ahh! I know right! I'm not sure what Bane's mask is and I'm too afraid to look it up. But I imagine it's pretty scary! But thank goodness he's out of that darn thing.**

**Rockefellerjaws—Yes thank you! Because of you my confidence is restored! Peyton says thanks as well!**

**Alexma—Sorry, recently family troubles have been delaying my writing, I will try to be as persisant as possible but it could vary sometimes. I apologize in advance.**

**Sherloky—Thank you! Peyton also says thanks and she's giving you a virtual hug! Pushing her away won't work, she'll just keep coming so just deal with it. And yes, I'm so utterly delighted you enjoy it, I hope you'll like this chapter as well!**

**Guest—Thank you for the elaborate review! And yes! Grr, the Allfather. In this story he's actually the enemy(at least so it seems, hint-hint) And oh my word, thank heavens I'm not the only one who thinks those helmets are RIDICULOUS! Especially Loki's. My sister even calls him the guy with the cow hat. "Sorry, my dear." *pets his head* And don't apologize, Peyton is catty. VERY catty indeed. *coughs-not-a-spoiler* "No, you shut up Peyton!" Anyways, yes Peyton is displaced realm wise and…dimension wise. Which ,unfortunately won't be explained until later. Much later in fact. Sorry. I hate it too. But thank you immensely and please keep reading! **

**I appreciate you guys so much. One hundred thanks to all!**

**Disclaimer: Fine. He's not mine. *gives Loki to Marvel***

**Warnings: Pointy knitting needles, window cleaner, and a romance novel.**

**Chapter V: Day One-Books**

-December First, Two-Thousand and Thirteen

It was around seven at night as the sundial goes. By then the sun had almost set.

Peyton had gone out to fetch a couple of more logs to rekindle the flames in fireplace. And occupied herself by re-cleaning the house, not knowing what else to do and trying to keep from confrontation with her new 'baby-sitter' she supposed.

In time, Loki polished off the rest of the apples in the bowl, and reclined on the long forest green sofa which he seemed to have adopted as his permanent residence as he hadn't moved since seated. Peyton gave a grateful smile, it was the most relaxed she had seen him the entire day.

Rubbing her hands together and putting her fist on her hip, she shook her head at him after washing the windows for about the fifth time. Peyton had been trying to stay out of his face all of this time, for fear of terrorizing him/ humiliating her herself in front of him. Occasionally they met gazes, only to his fretful green eyes instantly flashing away from hers shamefully, sending her heart into deeper pity and distress. Worst about it was, what could she possibly do? He wouldn't speak to her. And it made her more and more angered and sick to her stomach to see that horrid, jagged scar about his mouth as he remained in dejected silence. It almost looked like it had been sewn shut at one point. _No. _She shook her head again. _Not that._

Peyton with a nauseous tummy, meandered over to the credenza by the wall, opened ones of the drawers, and pulled out a ball of brown woolen yarn and a metal lavender-coloured knitting needles.

He watched her as she returned to her burgundy wingback chair, crossed her left leg over her right, and began casting on loops on the first needle. Peyton gently whispered the stitch patterns to herself "Knit, purl, knit, purl" while her delicate fingers motored in unison with her words. He observed as the tail of the knitting grew longer and longer, occasionally adorned by a muttered "Crapola" whenever she dropped a stitch.

Peyton noticed out of her peripheral vision how he stared at her with great perplexity, as if he dared to take his eyes off of her for a second, he thought she would leap insanely out of her wingback chair and attack him. Thankfully, he wasn't shaking anymore, but his uneasy aura was still dreadfully apparent.

He wasn't…scared of her…was he? I mean. Peyton was just a kid. And a mortal kid at that. Sure, she wasn't just your average human… She supposed her 'obscurity' could make her one to be feared. But no one knew nor would ever know about that. And neither would he. Otherwise, she was a perfectly harmless child. Well, almost perfectly harmless.

Peyton ceased her concentrated chanting and peered up from her work, only for Loki's eyes to flit about hesitantly, embarrassed to be caught staring at her. She gave him a warm grin, trying to get him to gain the least bit of confidence. Loki burrowed his gaze into the floor, avoiding eye-contact.

Peyton sighed. 'Fail' she thought to herself.

She uncrossed her legs and leered at him...

"Are you bored?"

Hearing a voice, he snapped to attention and glanced shiftily about with a puzzled expression on his face as if he were saying, 'What? Me'

"Yes I'm talking to you." she added with a smirk.

With wide glowing green eyes, Loki shook his head so minutely that it was almost unnoticeable.

She raised an eyebrow. "You sure?"

He didn't respond, solely turning in another direction with a guilty look, tenseness returning as he stared blankly at the opposite wall with his head bowed.

Peyton gave a little moan at the sight. How **long **was he going to stay…that way? She sighed. _Just when I was making progress._

As he intently looked at the brick wall he considered Peyton's words. She'd asked if he was bored. She had expressed interest for his inactivity. Like he mattered. He didn't matter so, why did she care to concern himself with him?

She shrugged her shoulders and decided to let her little house guest be and preoccupy herself. She didn't need to trouble herself she thought as she started a new row in her knitting.

_I don't have to do anything for him._

As she echoed these words in her mind, she felt like a bullet penetrated her chest as she took another painful glance at Loki. Though that statement spoke truth she couldn't rightfully accept it. Somehow she felt he needed her help, wouldn't let herself completely believe it. Odin sent him here. He was there for a reason. A reason that she couldn't understand yet.

He seemed so pitiful sitting there on the couch, legs tightly closed, arms locked at his sides. Through Peyton's keen vision, she could see his thin, white hands were sweating and that he swallowed more frequently than normal as he fixed his eyes to the far side of the room. And she knew whatever he was thinking about wasn't exactly pleasant by the way he flinched every few moments.

She closed her eyes and sighed. _I have to do something. _

Peyton put her knitting down in her seat, got up to the far end of the room, trying to make all of her movements fluid and visible as she knelt at the credenza. Loki gaze frightenedly jumped from the wall straight to her. Fearful green eyes burrowing into her skin.

She pulled back one of the creaky sliding doors, revealing a library of antique hardback books. Peyton cleared her throat.

"I...heard you like to read…too."

Loki looked up, puzzled. He wondered how this little girl knew all of these things about him. Certainly, Odin hadn't told her. Was she some sort of psychic?

"I…uh…read some of these books before you got here…they're okay, I guess." she said stroking their dusty spines.

"There are only a few in English though, the rest are in...Norse Runes?" she furrowed her brows in thought.

She turned and looked at him.

"That's what they're called right?"

Loki creased his brows. _Is that what they call it on Midgard? _Not knowing,he nodded ever so slightly anyway.

"Can you read these…" she examined the library and said with crinkled lips, "symbols?"

Loki minutely nodded again.

Peyton turned to hide her grinning face.

_Coolio._

She heard the couch creak as he tried to get up.

"No, no, sit I...I'll bring you some."

He lowered his body painfully back onto the sofa.

Peyton somehow knew he loved history. She thumbed through the books and took out _The Ancient Egyptians, The Days of the Ottoman Empire_, and _Great Britain and the Americas_. It puzzled her as to why there were books on Earth history in an Asgardian literature collection. She also pulled out a beige fabric book with black symbols on the front and a suede coral-coloured book with beautiful embedded gold lettering on the title. They were both in Norse Runes, so she couldn't read the titles, but they looked beautiful, so she took them, hoping they were good.

With all five books cumbersomely piled in her arms, she stood up and went over to Loki. She happily handed them over. He took them with a licentious look of gratification on his face.

Loki placed them on his lap and enthrallingly read the titles, appearing much like an elated child observing his presents on Christmas morning. Strangely, he stopped at the pink book and reread its title. He glanced bashfully up at Peyton for a split second. Gazing at the floor, he placed the book gently on the nightstand beside the sofa and pushed it an inch in her general direction with his finger.

Peyton cocked her head to the side. She picked up the lovely book from the nightstand and smoothed the soft cover with her fingers, tracing the lines of the beautiful lettering.

"What's wrong this one?"

Loki cheeks turned a bit rosy as he continued to glare at the ground with an embarrassed half-smile.

"Not gonna' tell me, huh?" she grinned.

He shook his head sheepishly, innocent eyes flittingly shyly about her confused face.

Disappointed, she turned the book in all kinds of directions, unsuccessfully attempting to read the title, scrunching up her face and lips with intense concentration, looking, a bit to Loki's amusement, like a disgruntled raisin.

Some of the symbols looked like rakes, or trees, or arrows, or zigzags, or fish, or staffs, and even one of them resembled an eye. But it wasn't English or the other language she spoke so, of course, it was all Greek to her.

Giving a defeated huff after much consideration, she shrugged and placed it back into the library and closed the sliding door.

With an insidious smirk she acquiesced to her guardian, cat-eyes sparkling slyly, "I'll make you read to me one of these days, Loki."

The demigod's green eyes widened immensely and he swallowed sharply, face turning quite pink again.

The book was entitled _Secrets of Passionate Love,_ but…of course…Peyton didn't know that.

**A short, pointless fluff chapter. But don't worry. The next one is fluffier. Remember. Reviewing is caring (; And hello, Nadia Trochelmann if you're reading this!**

**_REVIEW!_**


	8. Chapter VI--Speak

OHD is a story of pain, tears, apples, laughter, thievery, knitting, secrets, coffee, embraces, and spasmodic dancing.

**Greetings Readers! So glad to be back again! There is only a single reason for my delay and that is…I am punished from writing. Ever again. *Gasps erupt from around the website in horror* Yes. Yes my dears. You heard it straight from me. I'm never allowed to write. My mother has penalized me. Though she has no idea WHAT it is exactly I've been doing. Yet I am here? How? Yes, after going through great surreptitious measures of stealing my laptop away, evading my Computer Apps work, scribbling sections of chapters in my notebooks, and missing lunch just to get a chance to type on one of their computers, I am here. Here to give you a piece of my troubled mind. So thank you. Please review this because it took an incredible amount of effort(:**

**This is one of my favourite chapters, we finally get to see into Loki's thoughts...and unfortunately they aren't very pleasant...**

**Replies:**

**Sparki111: Hey! I'm back! Thanks for being my sole review and yes, here 'tis. Oh and your fic The Storm is marvelous, keep it up!**

**Disclaimer: I told you already I only own Peyton…and the steno pad. That's mine too.**

**Warnings: Fire, paper, and a ball-point pen.**

**Chapter VI: Day One-Speak**

-December First, Two-Thousand and Thirteen

"Knit, purl, knit, purl, knit, purl—"

The tiny cottage home, also now addressed by Peyton as the 'jailhouse', was tranquil and untroubled for seemingly the first time that night. Pages turning, knitting needles tapping, fireplace burning.

Loki was intently reading his book on the Egyptians. A civilization that, prior to his evaluation, hadn't existed to his knowledge. Typically, he regarded Midgardian history as dull and tedious. So it was much to his surprise when he found himself captivated by the fascinating accounts of the ancient empire. Overtime though, regardless of the prestigious records, he noticed his thoughts wandering away from the great pyramids and cryptic tombs to the terrors of his own furtive past…

Peyton was humming softly the tune "Hakuna Matata" to the rhythmic clicking of her locomotive knitting needles. Why? She didn't know exactly. All she knew was, she'd almost finished her hat and was determined to fly through her last couple of rows and get it over with.

Music, even imaginary music, , is always comforting, she'd thought. And the song reminded her of the movie The Lion King with Pumba and Timon swaying their 'manes' as the crossed that reputable log bridge.

It was utterly ridiculous because everyone knows … "It means no worries. For the rest of your daaaaaaaaaaaays. It's a problem freeeeeeee philosophyyyyyyyyyyyyy" …was a total lie that everyone wanted to believe in when they were little. But it just wasn't feasible. It could never be.

Normally, she would have burst into song when she thought of that movie but, staying positive and being all 'happy-singy' wasn't really possible when you knew you were stuck in a house a million of miles away from home…

Eventually she'd calmed down and focused completely on her work after she'd given the wary prisoner what he'd truly wanted, some distraction. However, gradually, she could sense Loki's mind going elsewhere as she could see, periodically, his eyes stop scanning the book and just sit there, perhaps staring at a particular word that struck back his memories. Like the text merely floated away and each letter, sentence, paragraph was replaced with his own story…

What unsettled Peyton the most ,though, was that Loki still hadn't spoken. At all.

Each hour of silence felt like centuries grating by and leaving her feeling a wary combination of vacancy and anxiousness. Although there was no battery operated clock in the room, she could almost hear the drubbing, 'tick-tick-tick' of the second hand, drumming into her head. Hammering in her pulse.

The longstanding quietness was exacerbating. She knew that Loki wasn't purposefully endeavoring to drive Peyton out of her mind by his morose, dejected taciturnity. However he was doing it nonetheless and the silence was making her mad. Quick.

Unconsciously, Peyton had knitted her final row without even knowing it. She stroked the woolen fibers with her fingers and let it absorb the developing sweat forming in her tiny, pink palms.

She whispered, "Done." in a weary voice, closed her eyes, and slapped the new hat into the crevice of her burgundy wingback chair, almost in disgust.

Loki assumed she had meant her statement regarding the completion of her knitting, but as he was soon to see that it wasn't the case.

Peyton opened her lids revealing her enormous black eyes, Loki feeling her gaze shoot straight through him. Her face looked unusually cheerless, practically desolate as she said something she'd been wanting to for a very long while, in tone filled with genuine childish innocence,

"Why won't you talk, Loki?"

Her word 'talk' sounding more like 'tauwk' with her Brooklyn accent.

The demigod sorrowfully met gazes with the young Midgardian child, but only momentarily until he resorted to staring at his hands.

Maybe he wasn't speaking to her because he still didn't trust her. She was human. She was a woman. Two **very **important characteristics of Peyton that she believed he didn't get along with too nicely. And she wasn't **about** to spend one hundred days with a misanthropist.

Peyton fixed her eyes on him, refusing to let him escape confrontation. Not this time.

"Are you…."

The human scanned her files of her own wide vocabulary to find the exact word she was searching for…monophagous…mycetophagus…mycophagous…

"Misogynous, that's it. Are you misogynous?"

His eyes widened at her impressive terminology. It even took him a few moments to remember the definition within his own vast library of language.

The dusky-skinned girl fiddled with her fingers, as she said with little or to no ambition, "Well are you? 'cause…" She gave a short bleak chuckle. "That may be a problem for me…"

Then it clicked. His mental dictionary stopped. Misogyny. The mistrust, dislike, and even outright abhorrence of women. Peyton was taking his silence and general wariness personally, as if he wasn't speaking to her because…he hated her.

The convict uncertainly shook his head. He didn't hate her. But could very well possibly be the other way around.

"Well maybe you have…"

She searched again.

"Xenophobia? Fear of foreigners?"

He once again declined her hypothesis. She thought he wasn't talking to her because of some sort of psychological fear? _Well, I suppose that is partially the case._

Peyton raised her eyebrow, flicked a few tendrils of her dark hair out of her face, and crossed her arms in doubt, "Really? Then why won't you speak to me?"

Again, the detainee said nothing as his eyes met with the ground.

She about to spit out another spiteful accusation when she remembered what Odin had promised her, _"Loki will not harm you. I have made sure of it."_

Her face softened and she uncrossed her arms as she stared unnervingly at the scars ensconced about his mouth.

Peyton lowered her voice to a mixture of confused yet benevolent tones, "Did someone…threaten you not to talk?"

His luminous green eyes peered upwards at the human, brimming with tears. And although his lips emitted no words, his milky, intimidated face told everything.

Peyton felt her heart rip apart in her chest as she watched him sit there on the sofa with his desolate demeanor, knowing he wanted to say something to her. Say something so terribly. But for some unknown reason, couldn't.

A scolding flame leapt up inside her and burned with her increasing fury. Loki was legendary for his silver tongue. The incredible ability to get himself out of the direst of situations with a single sentence. And now look. So wounded, he wasn't feasible of saying 'yes' or 'no'. Just a simple laconic reply.

Her chestnut coloured eyes pooled into an unlit black. Who? Who could have scared him out of plainly speaking?

Unto her knowledge, she had balled her fists at her sides and narrowed her gaze into a fierce glare. But she really wasn't giving that incensed position to Loki. It was to whatever bastard opted to terrorize the poor god.

She raised her chin in one of those impending 'Imma' keel somebody's butt' poses , peering him straight in the face, "Who forced you not to speak? I demand you to tell me who did it."

His heart froze in his chest and his eyes darted fearfully about the room, Peyton noticed, like he expected someone to appear out of nowhere from a window or corner.

Swallowing sharply and trying to make her voice placid covering up her growing anxiety, reassured, "You can tell me, there's no one here but us."

Still, his cautious survey of his surroundings failed to cease as he brought his hands together and nervously wrung them, hesitantly glanced from one side to the other.

In surrender, she sighed and fell back into her chair. After applying her hands over her face and groaning, _If I don't get this guy to say something, I'm going to explode._

Reasonably angered, she even thought of writing a **very **stern letter to whoever decided to come up with this wonderful idea to place her in a home with this emotionally-distraught sociopath. A five hundred word correspondence dispelling the "gracious" All-Father for his brilliant plan.

As steam sizzled off from the top of her head, there was a ping of light bulb sparking alight in her mind.

Leaping out of her chair (the sudden movement, of course startling her keeper), and scurrying over to the side of the room and darting up the stairs, she descended a few moments later with pointy, cylindrical object wielded in hand, marched across the living room, and approached the demigod, whose eyes were had enlarged to the size as baseballs.

To Peyton's utmost dismay, Loki leapt away to the other end to the couch like and squealed like a frightened kitten, eyes terrified and countenance dripping with undiluted horror with his hand over his mouth. As though he believed Peyton were going to lunge at him and stab his face relentlessly with the writing utensil.

His reaction startled her half to death. Morbidly, she even entertained the idea that it hadn't been the first time he'd been attacked by in the mouth with an incisor like object. She gulped and shook the thought from her head. She should have known better than to do that. But the fact of a pen being a possible weapon hadn't crossed her mind. Though it sounded like a pretty creative idea…_No, don't be ridiculous._

The teenager shook her head and held out her hand innocuously, trying to show she meant no harm.

"Loki, it's _just _a pen."

Slowly, Peyton drew closer to him until, suddenly, Loki hastily seized hold of the green arm rest bolster and held it defensively in front of his head, like he was going to savagely beat the living daylights out of her with the pillow if she took a single step further.

She rolled her eyes. _Ooh, I'm REALLY scared now. _This whole 'being scared of anyone and everything' thing was getting really old. Fast.

Having just about enough of the nonsense, she petulantly snatched the cushion away from Loki, tossed it away, stole his hand, forced the oh-so deadly ballpoint pen into his palm, leaned in dangerously close to his face and said coarsely, "Stop it."

Loki, whose head was drawn back critically into the couch, gulped perilously and screwed his eyes shut, waiting for her to strike him.

Giving him her black daggers, she extracted her face away from his, marched her way over to her burgundy wingback chair, lifted up the seat, revealing some sort of clever secret stash stuffed inside of the upholstery.

On top of an assortment of items that really don't matter right now, sat a weathered spiral-bound stenography pad. Taking it in hand and flipping to the first page (primarily after ripping out several suspicious-looking pages and stuffing them in her pocket), slapped it on Loki's lap and dictated tersely, "Write."

The prisoner merely stared down blankly at the notebook, the blue lines on the paper eventually blurring out of view. He levitated his head and with strikingly, jade eyes, examined the dusky-complected human standing before his face with her hands clasped patiently behind her back.

Loki closed his lids and his eyes stung as they produced burning tears. _I can't._

Almost as if she read his mind, "You can do it." she encouraged.

The way Loki nervously investigated the room, Peyton had the feeling that he sensed someone was watching him. Seeing whether or not he would crack under his own emotive pressure. If he dared to release his smoldering thoughts. But the thing was, there was no one there. There was no one watching him. At least…so she believed…

"There's no one here…." she consoled, attempting to sound sure of herself, "No one can see you."

Loki glanced warily above him, eyes flitting about timorously, like he expected something to fall through the ceiling.

"Please." she coaxed, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice, "It will make you feel better."

He looked away from warily peering at the space underneath the dining table, up at her. Him. It would make him feel better. He still could not fathom her personal interest in him. He couldn't comprehend it. She didn't know who he was. He was a monster. She needn't care about his feelings.

Swallowing sharply, Loki positioned the pen awkwardly in his left hand, in such a way that it seemed it were some kind of foreign object. With a trembling fist, he applied the tip to the sheet.

Peyton's face glowed. She finally had gotten him to do it. She was going to find out what has been causing him to act so petrified. Or…who….

The movements of his hand seemed very rigid, possibly unnatural as the ink soaked its way into the paper. Even as she curiously craned her neck, his arm underneath his great, dark-grey cloak obstructed her view of the page.

After what seemed like an eternity, but was simply a few minutes, he placed his arm at his side and peered up at her with a confused look on his face. Eagerly she came around behind the sofa, and glanced over his should, anxious for what he had to say.

What she was expecting to see was some sophisticated, ornate paragraph, relating to how long it had taken him to scribe. But, to her amazement, was only a single sentence. The characters were so unbelievably scratchy with such an uneven baseline, that it was barely legible. The writing was exceptionally narrow, almost ant-sized, like he wanted to make sure only someone capable of having their face plastered to the page would be able to see it. To be certain only she could study it.

Now Peyton was no forensic scientist, but it didn't take an elaborate writing analysis to tell he was horribly insecure, frightened, and distressed. But she ignored it. She ignored all of the signs. All she wanted was to have some insight. A little light in the shroud of darkness that had hidden him.

Peyton literally had to lean over the couch until her curly tresses swirled onto the paper (overlooking the girly parts spilling into her face) and the words came clearly into view.

_I do not understand why you concern yourself with me._

Peyton's heart sank deeply into shadowy pit beneath her ribs. Not only did he completely evade the question but he was questioning her motives for worrying about him.

Her pink, full lips constricted into a thin line. She didn't want him to think she care because…she didn't. Or at least, that's what she kept telling herself. She had her own problems, her own issues, her own fears….

Peyton straightened herself from sloping over the sofa, shifted her weight to her other foot, and defiantly sited her hand upon her hip.

She spoke up coolly, "Don't worry." she gave a mocking chuckle, "I am not concerned about you."

Loki's gaze fell despondently to the floor. He was not surprised by her answer.

Guilt smashed like a pane of glass overtop her head, she hadn't meant it quite so harshly.

"What I meant to say is," she bit her lip sadly as she hesistated,"I just…want to know what's stopping you from talkina' me, that's all."

The snowy-faced Loki paused for a short period of time, grimacing, then once more picked up the pen and scribbled on the pad.

A while later he revealed the paper, showing more miniscule writing.

_The issue is trivial. It should not trouble you._

Prior to reading it, Peyton smacked the back of the couch in anger, frightening him and making him cower in to the cushions, and erupted, "It is NOT trivial! You've been here for—"

Her head flashed to the copper sundial placed appropriately by the window near the door, but by that time there wasn't enough light out for the prehistoric clock to cast a proper shadow. Therefore, it no longer showed the time.

She rolled her eyes at her blunder and continued, unfazed, "—hours! And you haven't said a single word! How is that NOT to trouble me?!"

Proceeding her hollering, there was a screeching wind outside as she panted, completely out of breath while she witnessed a horrified demigod, frightened for his life.

In exasperation, she threw her fists over her eyes to withhold any more scalding outbursts. When she removed them,Peyton turned away from him and clutched her elbows, sniffing.

He glanced away contritely; he could have sworn her eyes were pink. She was…crying.

"I need—" the words caught in her throat as she sniffled once more, "I need you to tell me who did that to your mouth."

Instinctively, his hand flew to his lips and immediately felt as if it had gone alight. Loki pinched his eyes shut to shield out the searing burn about his mouth. It hurt. It hurt so badly. Not just the physical pain.

Opening his eyes he stared at the tiny human girl with her back turned towards him. Shoulders occasionally shifting and black hair slightly bouncing whenever she tried to stifle her sniffing.

She was scared and he knew it. Scared that something similar could happen to her. And the cruel, ghastly truth was…it could. And Loki couldn't even tell her. Couldn't even warn her. He knew he was putting her in danger. Every minute they were getting closer. Any second he knew they could arrive. They would be back for him…

Peyton's sensitive ears flicked to the sofa as she heard the scraping of the pen. He was writing again.

Wiping her eye with back of her dainty, tan-skinned hand, she slunk over towards him and knelt towards the back of the couch. Leaning over near him, close to the paper, her one of her long, dark, curly tresses brushed his shoulder and tickled his face, and, naturally, he shrank away from her.

Peyton looked down pitiably, around tucked her billowy hair behind her ear and sorrowfully apologized, "Sorry."

As she peered down at the pad he regretfully bit his lip. Loki didn't want her to believe he recoiled from her out of revulsion. Personal contact, even in the slightest, instinctively made him cringe. It wasn't on purpose. It was just the way he was. He was felt like never touched unless it was to harm him. As of recently, that was just a simple fact.

Peyton held her breath as she read his composition.

_You mustn't upset yourself over me. The reasons for my silence are diminutive. My comfort does not matter. I do not matter._

Her eyebrows lowered immensely and her lip dropped open in miserable astonishment. His expression crushed her. There were no real words she knew to express how entirely wounded and empty she felt.

Loki didn't think that his afflictions should bother her or that he was worthy of her attention. That he was worthless.

Peyton pivoted her little head towards him, black hair draping about her shoulders and framing her freckled face. Her tremendously sad coffee-brown eyes glistened as these words softly escaped her mouth, "But you do matter."

She hadn't meant to verbalize it and she hadn't realized she'd stated it aloud either. Her nerves grew numb and she felt almost out of body.

No one. Not a peasant. Not a rich man. Not a common thief. Not even an extraterrestrial criminal was worthless. No one.

She wanted to tell him this. She wanted to scream it straight into his ears at the top of her lungs. Loud enough to shatter glass. No scratch that. Every window in the house. But she didn't. She didn't because he wouldn't believe her. Not even for a moment. Yes, for once that day, Peyton had nothing to say.

She merely stared at the cream skinned demigod with his stringy, raven hair hanging down his back. Luminous green eyes rattled with fear and pain. Face battered with monster-like scars. And what was that brown, sticky blotch by his ears? Was that blood?

He looked so frightened, yet so frightening himself. Broken and worn and trodden. Like he'd been the only survivor of a fatal plane crash. Or a terrorist bombing. Or maybe even, a zombie apocalypse. _Yea, that's it. _

Although, Peyton grimly thought that all of those may have been a Disney Park ride compared to what she imagined happened to him.

Unfortunately not hearing her previous statement, Loki noticed her unusual stillness and trepidation with her mouth ajar and began scrawling, for the final time, on the notebook before she could interrogate him anymore.

_I plead that you do not inquire of me further. Please._

It was concise. It was firm. And, much to Peyton's disconcertion, it was hopeless. She looked him up and down for a sign of him not being convinced. But no, it was final.

With the longest sigh in the history of the world, she slid on her stomach off of the back of the couch until her feet gently touched the floor.

Peyton shuffled around the side of the sofa and stood before him with a solemn look of a combination of worry, sympathy, and defeat. She held out her hand for the notepad and surrendered, "I won't make you say anymore then." _Though I really wish you would._

To her shock, instead of giving her the steno book, he wrapped his arms around it protectively, emanating the crinkling sound of the paper being crushed in the materials of his thick cape and narrowed his eyes fearfully.

She took a step back with her hands placed defensively in the air and with wider-than-usual eyes proclaimed hurriedly, "Okay, okay man, keep the book."

He relaxed his muscles, looked at her anxiously and shook his head minutely.

Peyton had a feeling something was wrong and said, "What is it?"

Loki revolved his head around glimpsed a couple of feet past her to the brick hearth, crackling and burning brightly beside the couch.

She followed his gaze and furled her brows as identified the proper location and pointed with confusion. "The fireplace?"

He nodded.

She squinted at him with uncertainty. "What about the fireplace?"

Loki glanced about uneasily then unwound his arms carefully from around the notebook. He held it in his hands with apprehension and stared into the dancing fire. The flames leaping about in his bottle green eyes.

Peyton looked back and forth, skeptically, from him to the fireplace several times before understanding his desire.

"Do you want me to—" she tried not to smile, "burn the steno-pad?"

Loki gave an irresolute nod and frowned, embarrassed to ask such a request.

"You're joking."

The look on his face resembled that of a sad, abandoned puppy, waiting for someone to allow him something to eat.

She blinked. He wasn't kidding.

Peyton shrugged. _Whatever will make him happy._

"Uh…ok."

She walked over and held out her hand. Taking his time, he hesitantly reached out and gave the notebook to her, but without releasing it.

Tugging on the legal pad, she assured, "I'll do it, I promise."

_She promises. _And Loki remembered what she'd said to him before about not breaking her vows.

Slowly, he let go of the blotter and Peyton gave a grateful grin.

Instead of tossing the entire thing into the flames, she tore off the page he'd written on and reread one of the final lines. _I do not matter._

Feeling her heart squeeze and shrivel once up and depression swell in her veins, she let the paper free and let slip it into the fire. They observed as the ruthless blazes licked the ends, curled up the edges, and consumed his words. Loki didn't let his eyes leave the flames until it was entirely reduced to ashes and saw its smoke swirl up the chimney.

Peyton appreciatively noticed some of his tension melt away as he watched the cinders, long after the paper was gone and disintegrated. He wanted no traces left of his admition. Nothing to track back to being solely from him. So that no one would find it. No one would ever know…

And that brought him comfort.

Finally tearing his eyes away from the embers, he beheld Peyton's kindly, benign face as she said with a gentle smile, "Feel better now?"

Loki momentarily froze, as Peyton realized, he wasn't used to being asked such a question. After a time, though, he quietly nodded with a bit more conviction than he had all the times previously.

Peyton closed the cover of the legal pad and placed it beside his books on the nightstand next to the side of the couch and positioned the ballpoint pen carefully on top.

Loki's gleaming emerald eyes inadvertently met with the child's sparkling chocolate eyes. This time, however, he didn't look away.

To his surprise, Peyton knelt down on the floor on her knees, beside the arm of the chair and leered at him. He peered downwards into the face of the sprightly, human child , partially with in consternation and partially in intrigue, and paid attention as she stared up at him with a comforting innocence.

Her voice was faint yet clear with influctuations of her New York accent as she sympathetically guaranteed, "Whenever you want to talk…"

For the second time, he unconsciously put his finger up to his scarred mouth. Gradually, he put his hand down and his cheeks flushed at his own paranoia.

She paused with a tiny amused smirk. "Or for lack of better terms 'write'…. I'll be here…to listen."

Loki could only stare at her with amazement.

Peyton stood up and dusted herself off and swayed her hips over to her chair and suavely slinked down in her burgundy wingback chair and resumed sewing up her newly knitted hat, regenerated to her normal lively self.

In that same hour, she had gone from normal (whatever normal is for Peyton) to impatient to angry to scared to sad to confused and came all the way back around to happy once again.

Unto Peyton's knowledge, completely beside himself, Loki actually smiled.

Though her emotions weren't consistant, her determination was exhaustingly persistant.

Conceivably, if they were still alive tonight, of course, perhaps residing with this deranged little girl wouldn't be so grim after all.

**This wasn't the most upbeat chapter in the world. But personally, I thought it was pretty funny that Loki was ready to defend himself with a couch cushion if need be. (;**

**Review if you want to see our old friend being super sneaky in the next chapter…Thor! :D**

**_REVIEW!_**


	9. Chapter VI and a Half--Eavesdropping

OHD is a story of pain, tears, apples, laughter, thievery, knitting, secrets, coffee, embraces, and spasmodic dancing.

** (I also fixed the broken link to "The Doom Song" back in Chapter III. Sorry guys, I didn't know all this time that fanfiction dot net despises Urls)**

**Ahhem, anyway, welcome back readers! Yes I know, another 'half-chapter', but you know I gotta' do it right? (:**

** In other words…just because this is a Loki fanfic, doesn't mean I can rightfully leave poor little Thor behind! Obviously, the majority of stories on this site are based on Loki, trying to give him the attention he was deprived of. Therefore, abandoning Thor. Yeah, okay sure, do that, but I mean, look at him! *pinches cheek* How can you just neglect him? HE'S SO CUTE! **

**"Miss Petite-cease this-,that is,-please-unhand-me—" **

**AND PLUSHY!**

** "And stupid…" **

**Shut up, Peyton!**

**So, yes, enjoy this belated half-chapter and all its nutty Thor-ness!**

**Off Topic: Do any of you guys watch/have watched THE IT CROWD? Started watching it on Netflix yesterday and I'm hooked! I love Moss! **

**Replies-**

**Guest2: I do realize that in my summary "Erroneously incorrect" is redundant. I would not have used the phrase unless it meant the same thing, to exercise how prim and proper Loki tried to sound. But thank you. I do not blame you for 'attempting' to correct me, for I am also a harsh critic for English. Yet, the fact of the matter is, YOU yourself spelled "Erroniosly" incorrectly. It's spelled 'erroneous'. Therefore, YOU are erroneously incorrect. Have a nice day(: *insert roars of "OOOOH" in the background* **

**Diana: So glad you 'need' this! Here 'tis ,my love, enjoy! :D**

**Sparki: Hey, my main girl! Wuzzup(: Yes! I love my last chapter! My eyes water a little bit every time I relate his dejected condition): It will be a while though before circumstances lighten. Nonetheless, time and laughter can only heal! And, yaaayyyyyy, THANK YOU! Loki and Peyton's personalities are COMPLETE polar opposites and will result in many, many, many lovely clashes and witty dilemmas! Not in this chapter though, unfortunately, but, even so, I expect a review of what you think of this one! ;D *wags finger***

**Disclaimer: Thor and The Avengers do not belong to me. Therefore, Thor does not belong me and neither do Odin, Frigga, Volstagg and the lampshade that appear in this chapter. Thank you.**

**Warnings: Secret passageways, combusting hair, pies, and a stunning lack of furniture. Enjoy.**

**Chapter VI and a half—Eavesdropping**

-December First, Two-Thousand and Thirteen

Thor was thrown out of his sullen reflection as his head flashed towards the direction of the palace; he'd heard his name being screamed. Startled, he stood and shook his head fervently. He knew the voice. It was his mother. Breaking into a run, he left the babbling fountain and exited the whimsical gardens.

With his lengthy blonde hair thrashing about in the blustery winds, Thor dashed through the dewy grass and leapt over the garden wall and broke into a sprint across the expanse of a gentle field of sleeping daisies. Enchanted they had to be, for they would have passed away long ago with the frost of winter. But that meant nothing, he kept going and going.

_Not stopping to smell the flowers_, he mused the Earth-phrase to himself.

He resolved not to gain admittance to the Palace through the front entryway, seeing as though he wanted as least attention as possible drawn to himself. *So he opted to take another way, one in which for centuries both he and his brother used to access areas they weren't permitted to be in. Usually to cause mischief. But once again, none of that mattered.

Reaching the secret entrance, he ascended a hidden stairway that lead up one the Main level, sneaking past armed guards with less than perfect stealth. (I mean hey, he's a pretty big guy)

Skeetering through the polished halls, he followed the familiar aisles and passageways that he'd traced hundreds of times before. He arrived in the center of an open room in which several corridors stopped and intersected into. And then, suddenly, he heard his mother.

"I know what you've done. I know what you've done to him. You tried to keep it a secret from me—"

Thor's heart ceased beating point-blank in his chest.

"It was for your own good!" bellowed a deep, authoritive tone that hurtled like spears down the respective, adjoining hallways.

His father.

Whatever was being discussed, Thor had a feeling, he wasn't supposed to hear. He entertained the thought of leaving, but, after all that had occurred that day, in curiosity he believed that somehow he should perhaps remain and discover the topics of their heated dispute.

Yet, the voices were approaching and if he didn't adumbrate himself, his parental units would discover him and accuse him of eavesdropping. And heaven-forbid that to happen. Again.

Thor searched left and right for somewhere to conceal himself, but found none.

"You know not of what is beneficial for me. If you did, you would not have withheld—"

"There was nothing I could have done—"

"THERE WAS PLENTY THAT COULD BEEN DONE AS AN ALTERNATIVE TO—"

"Do **not **raise your voice at me, Frigga. My decisions **always **have great purpose despite how rash they may seem…."

Thor was growing in trepidation by the second and was beginning to perspire. Greatly.

If he ran in the opposite direction, his footsteps were sure to be heard by them.

He had to hide. But where?

There was not a single article of furnishing in view save a lonely brass lamppost with a whimsical, bell shaped lampshade.

The royalty of Asgard were rounding the corner in that very moment and seemed as though he didn't have any choice.

Therefore, Thor, the mighty god of thunder, scurried over to the corner of the open room, his boots screeching a bit as he did so, and ensconced himself behind the meager, spindly pole, exposed practically in plain view. (Which, was quite a difficult task because, as aforementioned…he's a big guy.)

He squinted his eyes shut, attempting to theoretically make his muscular build less visible. Which of course, didn't help. At all.

Frigga was first to storm through the corridor, looked to irked to an extreme degree, followed by a flustered husband with a stunning combination of sheepishness, confusion, and anxiety planted on his face.

Thor cocked an eyebrow. So very un-Odin-like.

As of now, they had their backs to him and didn't seem to realize that their biological son was in the very room they were conversing in. His head just behind the feathery pink lampshade.

"You are the All-Father, Odin! Surely there was some other source of punishment—"

He narrowed his eyes. What were they talking about? He had an idea, but he really just prayed that it wasn't it.

"I was not aware of how dire—"

"Not aware? Not aware?! It hardly takes the wisdom of the Norns, my lord, to know that is in indigenous for them to act horridly!"

Odin shook his head in distress; he knew very well what they were capable of. He just didn't think they would treat their own kind so…dreadfully.

"He is not one of them, Odin."

Thor noted that Frigga's hair seemed to be alight with flames.

From experience he knew that meant his mother was past mad. Past angry. Past enraged. And was now utterly infuriated. Not good.

Frigga's mind was brewing, her iridescent, oceanic eyes flooded with tears.

"Just because he didn't come from my womb doesn't give the permission for him to be unlawfully mistreated"

Thor's eyes widened. Just as he thought. _Loki._

"Now I'm not even permitted to say his name in public because you condemned him. No one is endorsed to mention him. It 's forbidden."

Odin was growing frustrated. She was blaming all of this on him. It wasn't his fault. It had to be done.

"It was mandatory to do so! If word got out of his actions, their trust in our legal system would be deterred! I did not purposefully condemn your son, I was only—"

"STOP!" she screamed with a volume so great it shock-waved down every connected corridor.

Thor's heart jumped up into his throat and beads of sweat ran from his forehead behind his ear, down his chin, and dripped onto his bright red cape. _Uh oh._

(Ship's about to go down right here. Prepare yourself.)

The Queen's tresses leapt up from dwindling flames to fervent blazes, crackling, charring, and radiating tremendous heat. The smooth creamy skin on her face flipped to a bright orange, rippling and flashing in pure rage.

Odin drew backwards and held his arms protectively in front of his face, to shield it from the scorch of the fiery inferno.

Despite his cowering, Frigga with a belligerent, flagitious scowl, approached ever closer to him, who was stepping back from her. When Odin's clothing began to singe, he cried for her to stop, but she ignored his pleas.

Above the cacophony of the searing blasts of the flames, she erupted, "HE IS **OUR **SON,ODIN! **OURS**!"

Thor watched in absolute horror from the corner, he wanted to leap from behind the lampshade and defend his father, but he couldn't give his position away, not after all of this. Still he felt like he was partially responsible…because…he was.

Eventually, the entire apparition extinguished as her locks faded to their normal blonde and returned down to the place behind her back. Her shimmering, silver dress completely unharmed** and her face flitted to its regular honey-kissed tones.

Odin retracted from his cowardly stance and stared at Frigga with one steely eye, fear violently tossing them about. She gave a passionate glare, then, unexpectedly, she covered her face with her hands and broke down in tears, and through her fingers she whispered, "You have never loved him."

Odin merely looked to the floor, sullenly, and said not a word in his own defense.

Thor still hidden behind the frilly lamppost, waited. Waited for his father to refute her statement, to bound to his feet and negate it, to say that he did love his brother. But, alas, no words came from his mouth and Thor, stared open-jawed, entirely stunned as the grey-haired monarch watched his wife gaze up at him with weepy eyes, also expecting him to say something.

When she realized he wasn't going to, she was ultimately shocked as she cried, "You do not even deny it.", and spun around.

With tears streaming down her face, she tore down the corridor, her elegant silvery, silk gown fluttering and sweeping the cold marble floors with each hurried step of her ceramic shoes, her curly hair bouncing behind her as she departed.

Odin only watched her and as she disappeared and bowed his head.

Thor could only watch _him _as his father stood there, dejected. He closed his eyes slowly, not unlike a saddened owl, and bit his lower lip. _It's all my fault. _

The King had not a single moment to take all of this in when some squeaky, faraway voice, completely disrupting the dismal mood, shouted, "Your majesty! Your majesty!" and whipped around to see Ligorius, the stout,plump nobleman wearing a bright green vested suit charging at him from the adjoining walkway, waving his arms frantically.

Taking a cautious step back and putting his hands up to calm the anxious and EXTREMELY round, small man said, "What is it ,Ligorius, what is the matter?"

"Sire, sire! The desserts! The desserts!" shouted Ligorius in a voice not unlike a funny little Munchkin from the Wizard of Oz.

The ruler rolled his good eye. He had most definitely failed to remember to join everyone for dinner in arguing with his wife and something had gone wrong with one of the courses during his absence. Marvelous.

"What of the desserts, Ligorius? I was trying to speak to Frig—"

"The pies, sire, the pies!"

"What of the pi—"

"Volstagg, your majesty, it was Volstagg the Warrior! The pies, sire, the pies!" he repeated stroking his handlebar mustache in absolute trepidation.

The King's face suddenly turned dark and his one eye widened immensely. "Say no more, let us be going." And they hustled into the adjacent hallway.

"His ravenousness cannot be stifled, sire! He's torn through the danishes, the pastries, the scones, the cheese roll—" he rambled.

"I thought he was trying to pursue dieting again. I was certain he mentioned that this morning…"

"He did, sire."

"How long did this one last?"

"Three hours, sir."

Odin sighed. "Longer than last week's."

"Indeed, sire."

"Let us make haste before what is left of our meals is devoured."

Ligorius wailed, "Oh dear, oh dear! The pies! The pies! Demolished! Destroyed! Ruined!"

Their voices echoed and disappeared with them around the bend. And with that Odin, All-Father, King of Asgard forgot completely of his son, his wife, his dispute, and his sanity as he entered the Dining Hall.

Thor, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, was absolutely amazed that of all those who had been present at different times in the room, none discovered him. He exhaled fully for the first time in several minutes and attempted to come out from his not-so-dignifying-hiding-place.

Wrestling with the lamppost, he exerted great effort to silently squeeze his colossal body out from behind the pole. Failing miserably as he tried to pry his chest through, with many grunts, he ended up knocking the entire thing over with a tremendous clatter of brass. And the mighty thunder god, in all his glory, tumbled and landed on top of it as a result.

Emitting a massive groan and a pained grimace, he prayed that when he opened his eyes, there wouldn't be a guard staring him in the face with a snidely amused and confused look. Thankfully, when he cracked his left eye open, there was no one there.

As he dusted himself off and stood, he scratched and shook his head. _The waning attentiveness of our security is horrendous. What if I had been attacked? _

He took an apathetic glance towards the crooked lamppost on the floor with a half lidded stare. _Yes, quite right Thor, attacked by a lamppost._

Rolling his eyes and giving a long, tired sigh, he hoisted up the pole and stationed it back in the corner where it belonged. Taking a step back, he ran his eyes over the lonely piece of furniture: The pole was bent in about four places, the lantern was cracked, and the beautiful lampshade had a discouraging dent in the sides.

With another depressed sigh, he trudged over to the pole, gave it a look of disgust, took it in both of his hands and endeavored to tweak the darned thing back to its normal position.

Twisting, bending, and struggling to straighten it until he was beet red in the face, exhaling significantly, he set it down with a great force and with a fierce scowl.

The condition of its vertical alignment had only slightly improved. The locations of where it was askew were still visible and the lampshade itself was just utterly dismantled.

Not caring any longer, he gave a defeated huff and stomped off down the corridor. Staggering with a slight limp.

His brother. This whole predicament was tearing his family apart. And he was going to do something about it. Most definitely.

ANNOUNCEMENTS:

Neither Frigga the Queen of Asgard, nor Thor the Prince of Asgard, made an appearance during the evening meal.

Their lack of attendance flourished great dismay amongst the diners present.

Volstagg the Warrior had to be detained by padlock and ball-chain to his chair for the duration of the feast to prevent him from attacking what remained of the roast beef.

The insufficiency of pies and other delicacies caused Ligorius the nobleman to have a minor stroke.

He was deported to the Healing Unit post haste and made a full recovery within a few short hours.

The next morning Thor was reported missing from his chambers.

A prized light fixture was reputed pulverized beyond repair.

***For once.**

****Not that much can be said for Odin's attire**

**Did anybody catch the Julius Caesar reference? Ligarius is the actual way it's spelled. Oh I do love Shakespeare.**

**As regards to Volstagg, minor characters need love too.**

**Goodnight.**

**_REVIEW!_**

**P.S—Loki and Peyton will be reappearing in the next episode. I mean chapter.**


	10. A Few Changes and a Rant

**A Few Changes and a Rant**

**4.9.13**

Greetings, my dear, dear readers! It's another annoying Author's Note! Yay!

Sorry if you're notifications got blown up in the last few minutes I had to delete all of my chapters and re-upload them as you will understand in a moment.

"Holy Crapola, are those our peoples?"

*rolls eyes* Yes, Peyton. And they are our **readers **not 'peoples'**.** Anyway,hello guys, a few things before I begin.

"I FEEL LIKE I HAVEN'T SEEN YOU GUYS IN FOREVAZZZZ—*tries to hug everyone*"

*holds her back* Peyton!—Stop—You can't do that—No.

"*pouts* But it's been a long tiiiiii-muh."

Stop whinging, I know that. And now we're back but you can't just attack everyone.

"*crosses arms* Well, ya' know it's been like three weeks since you've updated…"

I know that woman! I would get on with this if you'd just let me!

"Fine."

*exhale* I have decided to make a few changes regarding my story.

"MORE changes?"

Do you **want **me to get the duct tape?

"Please no."

Good.

Modifications:

I have changed the year to Two-Thousand and Thirteen instead of Two-Thousand and Twelve. I did this so that it can seem more…I guess real to you guys and not that you're reading something from the past. Which I found rather irritating and vague just to write, let alone read. So now…You will be reading in the future.

"WooooooOOOooo!"

Are going through this again Peyton, like in my other Author's Note?

"Sorry. How bout dis: OoooohWEEEEEOooooohhhh—"

No. Doing it in a Doctor-Who-Theme-like-fashion just makes it more irritating. Though I love you for making that beautiful reference.

"Pfft. Killjoy."

*sigh* That being said with the year change, that makes Peyton sixteen years old and not fifteen. Which also had to be modified. Hopefully making her sixteen will also make her a bit more mature….

"Ha! Not on your smelly little life. Nyeh! *sticks tongue out*"

Touche.

Also, that song "Pennies from Heaven" I referenced to in my chapter Speak? Yeah, I totally took that out.

"*GASP*"

Chill, Pay, I'm going to use that song for a future chapter. Plus I replaced it with "Hakuna Matata" which was kind of fitting , I think.

"Actually that's the most least fitting song ever for Speak."

Which is exactly what **made** it fitting, Pay.

Aaaand….You know my chapter Apples? That super awesome chapter with "The Doom Song" in it? Well, I've decided that that chapter was wayyy to freakin' long to begin with and kind of took away from it's amusement. So I split it into two chapters, Apples and Doomed, just for fun. Which is why I had to delete, renumber, and re-upload every. single. chapter.

"Doom doom da-doom doom doom doom DOOM—"

No.

Just no.

"But—"

You can go and annoy Loki with that, just not me or my readers.

"OKAY! Hum-de-dee-dum…*skips away*"

Phhew. I don't think I could have handled that tonight. It's too late for that nonsense...

Alright and finally, you know how whenever I want to say something to you guys during the chapter (and I put little snippets in stupid little parenthesis like this for no apparent reason and annoys the bloody crap out of you?) Yeah, well I've decided to stop doing that because I know it's bloody irritating when you're reading and get unwelcomely interrupted by silly little notes. Instead I'm going indicate them by * and insert them at the end of the chapter, like a footnote, for you to read later so that they aren't right in your face, disrupting the flow of the chapter. Because it only took me like ten(or how many ever there are now) whole chapters to realize how bothersome that is.

"*scoff* You're stupid."

*hisses* I thought you went to annoy Loki.

"I did. Near the end of the song, he threatened me with the curling iron if I didn't stop."

Right. Good for him.

"But I did it anyway."

Course you did. *sigh* Anyways, you thought this was over right?

"WRONG!"

Yeah , she's right, WRONG!

I told you there would be a rant as well…

"Here we go."

Okay, annoying-random-rambling-pre-story-rant-sequence GOOOO!

A.R.R.P.S.R.S:

Norse Runes—Please don't spear me mythology-gifted readers! In my chapter Books I **SERIOUSLY **thought Norwegian was the ancient language they used. The story behind my revolution to Norse Runes…

I was talking to my super-awesomely-intelligently-matched pal, Mia, who loves history a couple of weeks ago in Lit and she was writing these weird symbols down in her notebook when I asked her what they were and she said, "Norse runes, it's fantastic." (which "it's fantastic" is what she ends most of her sentences in. It's great.)

My eyes widened to the size of basketballs and I whispered in disbelief, "Norse runes…they have those?!"

She looked at me like I was the dumbest person in the world and was like , "Uh….yeah,why?"

She knows about my fic and I told her about my chapter Books and the fact that I said the language was Norwegian and she was like, "Oh my gosh, *insert real name* are you kidding?"

And almost in fake tears I was like, "Yeah and all one thousand six hundred and seventy two of my readers (much much more now) must think I'm THE MOST STUPID GIRL IN THE UNIVERSE!"

She's like, "You HAVE to go back and change that."

"I know right." So I spent the rest of Lit scribbling 'Loki' in tiny Norse rune lettering (using a handy dandy handwritten translation sheet which she graciously let me borrow) in my Lit journal and whinging about my failures as a writer, while Mia tried to console me like a good person.

Just so you know, I've fixed that. Here's another mythology failure of mine…

Aesir—So…In the first two-three chapters or so, I kept calling our poor Frost Giant an 'Aesir' when I didn't feel like saying 'Loki' or 'prisoner' or 'convict'. I ,again, only a couple of weeks or so ago realized, while reading sparki11 's fic The Storm that Loki is _ NOT _Aesir that only THOR and the REAL royal family and people of Asgard are. Again, one hundred face-palms and condescending groans later, I realize it's something that has to be fixed. *sighs*

I just want you guys to know that while I love EVERY SINGLE one of you reading this right now, I am shaking my finger at you in utter disappointment (Peyton is doing it as well) at the fact that you let me keep going on in my complete IGNORANCE, making these horrific faux-pas while you just sit back in your chairs, cars, buses, park benches, desks, toilets or wherever you happen to be reading my fanfic and just wagging your heads at my blunders and not even TELLING me.

So…here's the thing, because I do not ever recall making this statement before, I will do it now. Because I do demand perfection of myself and I fall ever so short of my own expectations every. single. time. I will say this….

If you see a mistake, and I do mean something meaningful like it ACTUALLY distracted you and disturbed your Grammatically-or-Mythologically-Correct-Senses, PLEASE. TELL. ME. I beg of you! It's only fair!

I mean if it bothered you, it's BOUND to bother others, and really don't want that so please, as long as it's said nicely,and coupled by a compliment, I welcome, in fact, need correction and constructive criticism.

So thank you for listening and PLEASE don't let this happen again. *sighs* I need reviews ,guys, I really,really do…so to all those Shadow Readers out there, put your big-girl-panties on(or if you happen to be a guy—knickers)and please make me happy and deposite your two cents in that wittle Review box down there, for they mean more than gold to a nutty little writer such as I. Thank you.

Rant over.

"*claps annoyingly slow and loud*"

Thanks Peyton for being supportive as always.

"YOU'RE WELCOME!"

Inside voice!

Oh my gosh, I just realised all of my views from chapter III to VI have been erased...shootbox. And all of my reviews are out of order. Like if you reviewed Chapter V you really reviewed chapter VI...*sigh* all well...too tired to care...

I should have the next chapter updated by Saturday, I'm serious, if not I think that covers everything.

Gosh I'm tired, It's like 11:48 P.M.

"Yeah...*yawns*"

So…without further adieu, this is the end of my note. Goodnight!

"Bon nui!"

*We both bow dramatically as the curtains close*

Graciously, "And Tenderly",

PetiteElefant and Peyton

*just like this if you're wondering about the footnote(;

**_REVIEW!_**


	11. Chapter VII--Something Different

OHD is a story of pain, tears, apples, laughter, thievery, knitting, secrets, coffee, embraces, and spasmodic dancing.

**Hello there readers! Thank you for being patient and enduring that Author's Note I posted yesterday. Sucks when I have to do that so hopefully this will make up for it! Peyton's having an inward war with her mind in this chapter and learns a thing or two about herself.**

**Off Topic: I DREW A NEW COVER PHOTO THIS WEEK GUYS, LOOK AT IT! I actually can't imagine Loki embracing Peyton (or really anybody) (at least voluntarily, like Peyton trying to attack him in a bear hug) at the moment so this is probably in the far future. Still, this is the cutest I've drawn of them to date. Oh...wait…I'm not shipping them if that's what you're thinking. *shifty eyes* I'm not! I promise! *skulks***

**Replies:**

**Anon—THANK YOU! I'm so happy you think my writing is "superb"! And yeah I've seen The Game Plan! It was a really long time ago though. But OH MY GOODNESS what are the odds they're both named Peyton and they're both spazzy and insane? *Peyton picks up her boot* Don't you dare throw that at me, Pay. And thank you! I try my hardest to make my writing perfect, so I'm so unbelievably thankful that you found no flaws! Personally, I spend hours editing and have STILL found loads -.- So thank you for scrutinizing, I really appreciate it! And since you have no name, I will call you Spectacu-Pants because you are amazing and I love you! I hope you enjoy this:D**

**NoVacancyMind—I'm so ecstatic that you think this is "epic" and "hilarious"! Yes! My job is done! Hopefully this will never be boring because, life with Peyton can never be boring! :D *Peyton picks up boot* Don't!**

**Sparki11—I know right! Ten points to Frigga, goose eggs for Odin. ERRRRRRT! That's the buzzer so Frigga wins! Ding,ding,ding! *holds up Frigga's arm* Winner! Haha! And thank you! I try to accomplish the impossible by making this story both crazy and funny while doing sad and heart-rendering. But according to your reviews I'm obviously doing something right((: Yeah, poor Thor, trying to hide behind a lamp. *shakes head* What will he try next? :D And yeahhh go eat dat' pie ,gurl! XD**

**Sparki11(again)—Because Sparki you're just so amazing you actually REVIEWED my insane little Author's Note (Which I was not expecting anyone to do because I mean, hello, who reviews Author's Notes I mean, come on. I'm not exactly sure why I even put "****_REVIEW_**_!" _**there, but I was tired.) So thanks and I love you immensely as well. *HUGSSSSSS* By the way did you enjoy your pie?**

**NoVacancyMind(again)— And YOU Misses Vacancy I do love as well, because like Sparki here, you reviewed again! Yay me! *claps frantically* And aha! Someone else who says "cray-cray"XD. AND YAY SOME ONE WHO LOVES DOCTOR WHO AND INVADER ZIM! YEAH BABYYYYYYYY. Fangirl power! *high fives you* So yes. Ahhem! Sorry there was no plot yesterday, I had to inform you guys of a few things so you wouldn't be confused. Well…actually as far a 'plot'…my story doesn't have much 'plot' except for the more adventurous chapters. (Which I can't frigging wait to show you guys once I get past Day One, ugh!) So hopefully by plot you meant more along the lines of pointless, random, silly, cute, hilariously-sticky fluff. In that case… HERE'S ME GIVING YOU "MOAR GOODNUSS!" (I know you didn't say it exactly like that, but I'm sure you wanted to (; )**

**Disclaimer: See this crazy girl down there? *camera pans down to Peyton jumping and waving frantically then pans back up* I own her. She's MINE. Got it?**

**Warnings: A thoughtful, indecisive human, bipolar moments, a revolution, naughty faeries, and sequins, Phhew!**

**Chapter VII: Day One—Something Different**

-December First, Two-Thousand and Thirteen

The wintery wind was tossing the trees to and fro, their limbs indulgent to the blustery strokes. The boisterous blasts shrieked with vociferous howls, threatening its merciless power with every deafening wail. Inside a story-book cottage in a far, faraway land, safe from the deadly chill behind its fortified walls, lives a human…and a Frost Giant.

In a red brick room, on an elegant, maroon wingback chair sat a petite, young woman with olive, dusky skin in a tight, lime-green sweater blouse with her legs daintily crossed underneath her light blue skinny jeans fitted well to her curvy figure. Her soft cheeks were lightly spattered with freckles beneath her enormous cat-shaped eyes so deep brown, her pupils were hidden behind their darkness. Billowy, inky locks laid straight until the ends when they flipped upwards in subtle curls that flowed and dusted her back. Dangling from her ears were flat, silver hoops and on her feet were sleek, black leather, lace-up combat boots that came all the way up to her calves, giving a slight contrast to her innocent visage.

Facing opposite the woman on a suede, forest green couch sat a tall, pale gentleman in a medieval, floor-length, dark grey cloak, covering his entire body and pooling about his bony,broken form, the hood developing a deep collar about his neck. His raven hair ,which used to be very sleek, was now quite lengthy and a bit unruly, his wispy tresses hung down well past his shoulders, the ends reaching up and outwards like hundred of spiders' legs. His complection was as white as snow, with cheek bones well defined on his gaunt face, adorned by large, crystal green eyes, smooth,marbled, ancient, and glowing… quite so like the finest of jade. His layers of sweaters underneath were strong and heavy as most Asgardian attire was, the material thick and choking, weighing down on his thin body like sheets of lead. He, like the girl, also sported black leather boots, except his were garlanded with latches and metal buckles, sturdy from their build yet worn from use. His entire appearance whispered that he was some unknown person…someone veiled, hurt, desperate, and distant.

Their names, respectively, are Peyton and Loki.

The latter was finishing reading an interesting volume on the history of the Egyptians of Ancient Midgard and she ,the aforementioned child, had given up knitting after completing a peculiar little hat and was now fiddling about with her talon-like fingernails, jadedly contemplating what to do next. Her nose ticked rhythmically, a unintentional habit that asserted itself mainly when she was in deep concentration or just utterly bored. In this case both.

A half an hour ago, she had gone absolutely biserk over the aggravating muteness of her prisonmate and was determined to find out the causes of his alarming lack of speech. She didn't find out incredibly much after interrogating him and forcing him to tell her by writing on an old steno pad, but she did discover one thing. It was not of his own accord. Something had happened to him. And she didn't know what.

It was bothering her like an infectious, monstrous itch. Like the scar on her left wrist. But she'd promised herself that she wouldn't make him say anything. Nothing until he genuinely wanted to.

It had been a long day. She tried telling herself she wasn't sleepy. She hated admitting it something as weak as that. _Not tired._

Because.

Her nose twitched.

She was not weak.

Nevertheless, Peyton was feeling a thick, chunky vegetable soup of emotions right about now. She just couldn't determine how exactly she felt.

One moment she was sad. Sad for herself, mostly. But also sad for , believe it or not, Loki.

Why? Why is that?

Someone whom she used to think would be perfectly content with watching the world burn, was sitting on a lumpy, green sofa in her living room, morbid, reserved, and uncustomarily silent, reading a history book.

That's why.

It would was just so… wrong.

Not like she wanted him to go on some sort of killing rampage, because obviously, that wouldn't be good. Living. Living would actually be kinda' nice. But the depressed silence was about to make her scream. It was making her mad. Yet, coincidentally, she didn't really blame him.

She would be all quiet and locked up and too, the shock of being thrown into the awkward circumstance of living with an absolute stranger who wasn't even of your species.

Well not really. Peyton would be the exact opposite of quiet. She would kick and thrash and scream and yell and toss and bellow and holler. Because Peyton doesn't **do **quiet. That was one of her disadvantages. She didn't get stifled, she got mad. And that's another thing.

Another moment she would be angry. Angry that she ended up on mother-frigging Asgard instead of where she supposed to be. She was never supposed to be there. Never. It was all a MISTAKE. Completely, utterly, and entirely accidental. Now that old geezer was keeping her here. Even, if he did send her to Earth, she still wouldn't 'technically' be home. Just on a…similar planet.

Nope. She had to stay here. In a little cottage home. With his effing son for one hundred effing days.

Well, okay… _Adoptive_ son for one hundred days, but whatever.

One day he was trying to enslave all humankind, the next he screams and jumps away at the sight of a frigging ball-point pen. Nothing was making sense. The whole situation made her want to go, What. The. Fruit. Basket.

But, honestly, did it _really _ matter that she was gone? Not like her mother probably really cared she had disappeared. Probably happy.

Or maybe she wasn't. She knew her mother loved her. She'd heard her break down in tears when Peyton fled the apartment…

Her mom. Probably searching all of Manhattan for her daughter. Not even knowing that she would never find her…

Peyton pinched her eyes shut as she pictured her mom's face as a burly detective with a four o'clock shadow and a steaming Starbucks coffee cup in his right hand, said to her, "Sorry, Miss. Any traces of your daughta' are nowea' to be found…"

She would be confirmed dead.

Her stomach wretched in a somersault and she bit hard on her bottom lip. _Dead._

But she wasn't. She wasn't dead. She was right here.

Peyton wished for a second that could go up to their livingroom window and wave to her mother through the dusty glass. Press a tear-streaked face up against it and tell her she was still alive. But no. That just wasn't going to happen. Because it couldn't.

She felt furnace flicker on inside of her as thought of what her father would do. Peyton snickered dismally aloud, though the laughter only left a stinging crack of pain in her heart. Her eyes darkened to a murky black as she imagined what he must be thinking to himself. _One less monthly support payment. _

Her irises raged. He probably couldn't give a flying—ahhem.

Well anyways….

Her parental status didn't matter here. She was alone then and alone now.

Peyton didn't understand. What was the purpose? Keeping them here together would accomplish nothing. ABSOLUTELY NOTHING.

Eventually something bad was bound to happen.

Either A. Loki would snap back to normal (whatever exactly his normal was) and slay her or (and Peyton thought the most probable of the two) B. **She** would snap on** him** and kill** him.** Whichever way, both would end in casualties and it would be all little 'ole Odin's fault.

She sighed. Other times she was just confused and asked herself questions like… _What the frig am I doing here? Why the frig am I living with a war criminal? How the frig am I still alive? And why the frig…_

Peyton peered upwards from her lap, in front of her, and her gaze was met with a pair of despondent green eyes that shook with fear as they hesitantly flitted back down to the pages of his book_._

_ …does he keep LOOKING at me like that?_

She covered her face with her hands and clamped her eyes shut and gave a tiny moan of dread. Why. Why. Oh why did it have to be Asgard? Why couldn't have been Neverland? Or even Narnia?

She sighed pleasantly. She would love to be back in Narnia. Narnia was great. But, did she land in Narnia? Hell no. She'd taken a one-way trip to Asgard, the 'Land Eternal'.

Peyton rolled her eyes. She wished she could go someplace else. But she couldn't because she'd….

She wrinkled her nose, ran her fingernails through her scalp, and moaned in anguish.

Well nevermind. It didn't matter. She was stuck and that's all there was to it.

_Dang, I'm an idiot._

She could blame all of this on herself actually. It was all her fault. If only she had been more careful. Had watched what she was doing. But none of that mattered now. She wasn't a time traveler. She couldn't change it.

Peyton tapped on her chin and looked absent-mindedly up the ceiling, counting the wooden panels.

_I could run away. It would be so easy. I'm already packed. I could slip through my bedroom window again, and vanish, no one would ever know._

Everything was still and undisturbed in the room. Until Peyton got an idea of course.

Taking a sneaky, precautious look around her specifically at Loki, she jumped up from her chair and darted over the the stairs. (Starling said demigod of course.)

He stared questioningly at her with a hint of hurt and disappointment in his burning in his eyes. Like he knew.

Peyton squinted and looked up the staircase, the individual steps leading up and blurring away into the ceiling ,and tried not to let her eyes sting. _You don't need me. It would be better if I left._

She felt Loki's eyes on her, those sad, sad eyes.

_If I go, things will be better. It always has been._

All those times, all the people she'd left. Initially they'd miss her, but in a day not even remember her name. Forgotten. She was just the girl that was never really there. Just was.

She would blow into a town in one minute. Take up living in some abandoned, run-down apartment on the end of some shabby little street with potholes , sidewalks that've been cracked, shoved, and overgrown with weeds . A place with a weathered wooden secured plank over the door, roof's caving and pigeons residing in the vents,a single ransacked bedroom, and red x's over the windows where some bored, troublesome kid decided to spray-paint. Someplace unwanted. That would be hers. Next minute she'd make the drop on a corner store or two, nick a few purses here and there, slip in a couple of wallets, and when she was feeling brave (and that is REALLY brave) she'd coyly coerce some sloozy guy to help her break into some flat that happened to have some "impressive stuff" , vanish right in the middle of the burglary and let the man get snapped up by police himself, and leave town. It was all routine.

That is why Loki didn't need her. He didn't need to have someone like that around him. Someone like her.

_But then again…_

Peyton revolved her head exaggeratedly slow. Approximately eighty-six degrees flush left. Just enough to see Loki out of the corner of her peripheral vision with bulged eyes, for fear of him catching her looking at him. Just like mischievous child would do, trying to steal candy in plain view and trying to walk past the cashier, with eyes about the same circumference of a standard salad bowl.

He peered up from his book.

Peyton whipped her head back around, negating back to zero degrees.

Shoot. He saw her. She hated when that happened. She could hear the security sirens pealing off.

But anyway.

_He doesn't need any one else turning their backs on him._

Still having her right boot on the first step, Peyton took it down and shook her head miserably.

No. No she wouldn't run away. Running doesn't accomplish anything. All she'd ever done was run,run,run.

Now look where'd it gotten her. In frigging Asgard. That was the best yet.

It didn't matter how far she went, her problems followed. Down the block. Around the bend. Into the city. Through the country. Across the universe.

It wouldn't even matter if she ran away , where would she live? In the forest? Ha! That was a joke. Ingamar? She'd still be in another realm, millions of miles away from any real home.

This could never feel like home to her. Nothing really ever did.

Peyton strutted back over to her chair and sat down, defeatedly. With sparkling dark eyes she beheld her wary guardian, staring at her with a combined look of disturbance, sadness, and confusion pasted on his blank, pallid face.

_…I couldn't possibly leave him._

Suddenly, her eyes widened to the size of your average grapefruit as she slapped her hand over her mouth in disbelief, even though she hadn't _actually _said anything. She certainly did not think what she thought she'd just thinken. Thunken. Thought. Whatever.

_What the FRIG is wrong with me?! I don't care about him. I CAN'T care about him._

She shook her head wildly in confusion at her own sentiments and gave a serious, determined stare, pinching her lips together in a thin line.

_I only care about myself._

That's what she kept telling herself. Over. And over. And over again for several minutes straight to the point where if Peyton's brain had a speaker installed into it, it would jump and twitch and repeat like a broken record.

_I only care about myself.*screech* I only care about myself.*screech* I only care about myself._

She was a crook. She cared for no one. That was it.

For the past four hours, she'd broken almost every rule of the tacit code she had with herself and other thieves of her kind. Trust no one.

Pilferers would get what they needed and would disappear.

Loki was only a minor interference to her. Nothing more.

Peyton sighed dismally as she felt deep, watery pressure behind her eyes and her chest stung with pangs of sharpened guilt.

"No!" she shot in anger and slapped herself on the cheek, completely forgetting Loki was there and just witnessed Peyton striking herself in a manic episode.

Loki's eyes widened as he peered downwards into his volume and pretended he didn't really see that.

She clenched her teeth.

This. This THING she kept doing. Over and over in her way she never let herself be found by people. Always shrugging everything off like it was no big deal. Just run. Things will be fine. That thing. It wasn't working. It never worked.

She didn't like being shallow. She didn't like being selfish. She didn't like being different. She didn't like that she stole. And she CERTAINLY didn't like treating people like dirt, as if they were beneath her.

That. Now that was laughable. Thieves are the lowest of the low. They don't belong in society…

Suddenly there was a soft click and a gentle buzz of a light bulb flickering on inside her head.

Peyton looked over at Loki , hoping he hadn't heard it.

She briefly tinkled her nose.

Maybe that was it. Maybe that's why she kept treating him with kindness. Over and over. Out of pity? Sure. But maybe that wasn't all.

Peyton stared benevolently at the worn figure slumped sorely over his book propped on his knee, eyes pretending to scan the pages when really they were heavy with sadness, fear, and pain, with every second looking paler and weaker.

Outcasts. They were both outcasts. Unfit to be amongst those of honest means. She was being gentle towards him because…she could empathize with him.

Peyton, with a irrelevant thought, she couldn't help referring to a line from The Lady and the Tramp in her mind.

"Quote. Mee-serable being must find udder mee-serable beings. Den…is happy! Unquote."

It made her grin. Perhaps that shaggy little dog from the pound had a point.*

Peyton sighed thoughtfully as she lethargically pushed a couple of tresses of her long, dark hair over her shoulder, out of her face.

She was here for a reason. To redeem herself. Not to escape and run away. Not to be snobby and resentful and irritable. Not to shut down and sink into another miry pit of depression. Though it would be quite easy to do all three.

Nopety, nope.

It was a time to for…something else. To try something new. For once.

All she ever did was take from people. Now something… different was blooming.

Peyton looked up from her hands with another reflective sigh. There he was.

Loki had attempted to crane his back to straighten it into perhaps a more comfortable position when pain rippled across his face, he squinted his eyes shut, bared his teeth, and exhaled morosely in unadulterated agony.

Unintentionally, Peyton's chest tightened and her worried lip curled under as she bit it in distress. His back.

Peyton remembered seeing him fall when she was watching him through the window. Her stomach flipped like a circus dog as she envisioned the bulging welps and the greenish, veiny bruises, crying out from underneath his cape.

When she'd assisted Loki across the room after Odin'd finally left, she recalled how ,even though he'd towered well over a foot and a half taller than her, his posture was so disfigured he had to lean on her for support, leg crumpled limply at his side.

Peyton would give anything in the world to find out what happened to the forsaken Asgardian, but knew, quite well, she would stay clueless for however long he remained silent.

In a sleepy, wistful way,she wished she was a mischievous little faerie who skipped around in bare feet with a floaty, pink, tinseled dress, elvish moccasin slippers, and wore whimsical flowers in her hair who could bop him pertly on the head with a sparkly little wand (causing just a little irritating hurting in the process, perhaps…maybe…giving him one of those red, blinking, Tom-and-Jerry welps to grow from atop his head**) and heal all of his injuries.

Which would of course make a delightful little noise. Ding!

But, she sighed, unfortunately, she was not a faerie.

Peyton smiled sheepishly.

Oh, but if she was a faerie… the dress would sooo NOT be pink and the wand would definitely NOT be sparkly. The moccasins could have sequins. But that was it.

With bleary eyes she looked dreamily upwards into the air.

_I want sequined moccasins so. Bad._

She shook her head and tried hard to withhold a silly, embarrassed smile from slithering dumbly across her face and failed epically when she sensed Loki staring at her with a purely innocent and bemused look.

Peyton huge, dark brown eyes gleamed in the light of the fireplace as she felt her cheeks go dark and she bit her lip awkwardly.

A thuggish, stealing, teenage girl who wanted a pair sequined moccasins.

"Me zanmi," she breathed to herself and she shook her head.

She rolled her eyes sleepily.

_God, I'm stupid._

And she was also **definitely** tired.

***The dog's name is Boris. (Credit goes to Disney) I ADORE the Lady and the Tramp, you will see more of that later.**

****You know the ones I'm talking about.**

**I love faeries.**

**Do you like the little rambles I do before chapters? Does it make you laugh? Or does it annoy you? Tell me so I'll know for the future. I wouldn't want to off-put someone because I talk too much(:**

**Feel free to ask questions guys about my story, I'll be totally open (; **

**_REVIEW! _**

**That's right Shadow Readers—I'm talking to you(;**


	12. Chapter VIII--Coat Rack

OHD is a story of pain, tears, apples, laughter, thievery, knitting, secrets, coffee, embraces, and spasmodic dancing.

**This me making up for last week's moody chapter! I hope you think it's funny. Because it is. Here's a life lesson: Don't ever hit a black chick on the head. Ever. -4.15.13**

**Replies:**

**NoVacancyMind—Ah, greeting Misses Vacancy, thank you for being my ONLY review last chapter. And yes. Sequined moccasins. That the shiz right there. Please enjoy another one of Peyton's episodes causing some more of our poor Loki's fearfulness. And I love you too :D**

**Disclaimer: Just because everyone loves Peyton, doesn't mean I will share her. *hugs protectively***

**Warnings: Coat stands, French for "seen previously", a make-believe fort, funny head protection,foreign curse words, and that oh-so deadly ballpoint pen.**

**Chapter VIII:Day One—Coat Rack**

-December First, Two-Thousand and Thirteen

The waning fire flickered in struggled bursts as if fighting to stay awake with the unusual pair, to watch what outlandish scene would be happening next.

A freckled, tan-skinned human child with flowing rivers of raven hair that curled at the end, was lounging in her maroon-coloured wingback chair, bouncing her leg up and down in anxiousness, deciding whether or not she would do this—this thing.

A cream-complexioned ex-prince with violet, jagged scars about his mouth and wrists, was sitting on his green sofa, staring off into space. It was long enough to seat three comfortably, four uncomfortably, yet he insisted on wedging himself closest to the arm rest, for the combined illumination of the hearth and the oil lamp on the nightstand to envelop him, to be blanketed by it's comforting glow.

Peyton lethargically lowered her lids until they closed, laid her bespeckled cheek against one of the wings of the chair, and took a deep breath, almost in a yawn, listening to the shrieking winds battling against the house, wanting to break in.

No **way** she was really tired yet. It was still early, at least for her. Nevertheless, being in the same room with a distraught and emotionally-agitated prisoner sort of sucks the life out of you after a while.

She had already made up her mind what she was going to do. Yes. She was going to stay, if you're wondering. However, she'd also resolved to accomplish something else as well. A plan, if you will, while everything seemed relatively calm…for now…

Peyton opened her eyes, and concentrated on making her voice as composed and unthreatening as humanly possible as she piped up so as not to startle Loki, "Hey…"

Loki immediately came to attention, scanning the room with fear flickering in his green eyes when they rested on her, chest rising and falling unsteadily underneath the bulk of his cloak.

She gave a measly sigh ,pinched her lips together, and puffed her cheeks out with air, feeling as cheerless as ever. There was no way of NOT scaring this guy.

"Um, hey, it's me…Peyton, your roommate?" she teased awkwardly.

Loki glanced about sheepishly, apparently a tad embarrassed.

""Um, so your back is kinda…"

She searched for a word that was neither broken nor beaten nor wrangled. The use of those terms, she knew, could only lead to tension. Peyton pursed her lips as she guessed, using an expression her mother often used,

"Snafued?"

Loki's eyes widened considerably.

_Sna-food?_

His puzzled gaze switched anxiously back and forth, obviously not knowing what 'snafued' meant.

"Woy…."*

Peyton gave a mental facepalm and rebuked herself for not using a 'real' word. _Snafued, really?_

Despite not being aware of the definition of the unfamiliar term, a gave a perplexed, hesitant nod, just hoping not to be confronted any longer

Peyton nodded, appeased and glad he didn't deny it. "Alright," she said, putting her hands on her knees as she stood up from her favourite chair. "Then I think I know the trick."

Peyton strutted sleekly over to the coat stand by the door, with a confident smile and swiped dramatically for a rather long, black peacoat hangily limply on one of the spindly hooks, attempting to be suave. It was freezing out at night and the winds were literally strong enough to lift her away, she knew from experience. And for her not to put on a coat, she would have to be certifiably _insane _…oh…wait a minute…

She gave a light pull on the fringe of the garment, and her proud smile vanished quickly from her lips when it didn't come down. Swishing around the lining in order to shake it, it still refused to budge. She pressed her lips together and smushed them into a twisted bundle on the side of her face, and giving a huff, put her hand to her hip.

_Not again. _

Peyton being a small person and the rack being quite tall, evidently made the task of retrieving her coat a smidge more difficult, because she seemed to be having a hard time. After tugging on the sleeves several times, Loki, slightly amused, began to wonder how she'd gotten it up there in the first place. Yanking on the belt, the stubborn hook refused to let the collar of her coat go, it became blantant that the tag must've gotten stuck.

As several minutes went by of her jerking on the peacoat, having put up with the stupid piece of furniture long enough, she made the terrible decision to leap in the air and whip the edge of the coat in hand, in attempt to snatch the tag free from its hook. Too late she realized that was a bad idea as, instead of pulling off just the coat, she brought the whole thing down with her with a tinny crash on the wooden floors.

CLANGITTY CLANG!

Loki gave a humiliating squeak and jumped up off of the couch like a frightened little mouse at the spectacle, his leg screaming at him in pain for even daring to perform such a feat. Grimacing, he gingerly sat back down and hugging tight to his arm bolster, shaking in dread.

It hit her right on the head. And she saw glitter, rainbows, stars, kittens, and other randomness shimmering and dancing momentarily before her spinning eyes.

"Uhnnnn," she rubbed her head, almost feeling the room reel about her, the rest of her body going numb.

Was Peyton ever to know that something similar happened to Thor and a lamppost not minutes ago? No. She wouldn't.

Painfully slow, she rotated her head and glared murderously at the coat rack.

Loki's eyes grew to the size of beach-balls and suddenly he felt very, very cold. And that just doesn't happen too often.

Still clutching the arm rest , he clambered over to his end of the couch, as far away from her as possible, out of range of any potential danger. Because he knew Peyton was not going to take that sitting down, not even from an article of furniture.

Peyton, looking utterly pissed, shoved the coat rack off of her, stood quickly, rectified the stand, staring fiercely, "You really did that…" she said oh-so very dangerously gradual and quiet.

**"-AGAIN**?!",she suddenly shouted, then shouting abusively, wrapped both hands around the pole and proceeded to 'choke' the inanimate object.

Again, a startled Loki could only crush himself into the couch as Peyton berated the coat holder, trying his best not to cry.

After making an absolutely flamboyant rant consisting of belts of vehement swearing and other phrases that either Loki just couldn't comprehend or were insults that could very well possibly be from an entirely different language all together…

Somehow Loki felt a bit déjà-vu-ish like he'd seen that happen before. Or at least sensed that something analogous occurred not too long ago. Whatever the feeling was, he didn't like it, and decided to play it safe.

"You stupid-pointless-MUNDANE little appliance!" Peyton hollered,still battering the poor entity, smashing it and tossing it and kicking it around the living room"You know what, you imprudent *kick* piece *kick* of furniture*kick*,"

She threw her fists behind her, thrusted her head forward, and screamed, "GO GET MANMAN'W -"**

Peyton ceased ranting abruptly, mouth hanging open in mid-profanity, hands once again about the coat rack's 'neck' and stared at a bug-eyed demigod that she'd forgotten was even there, who'd impossibly wedged himself into the couch cushions.

Her eyes widened disproportionately. One at least six inches bigger than the other. This time she did a literal facepalm.

The cushions were arranged cleverly about his crouched body like a protective fortress, his cloak pooling about his knees, the funny little arm bolster placed horizontally on top of his hair, balanced perfectly on his head like a seesaw , she supposed, to act as a makeshift helmet, from-his-head-to-his-toes petrified for his freaking life.

It took everything she had not to explode, double over, roll around on the floor, and point at him with howling stripes of unadulterated hysterical laughter. But she controlled herself and released a few giddy, snorted chuckles, sounding terribly similar to an excited baby piggy.

"Spnicg-spnicg-spning-tah-tee-hee-heheheeeeeee-spi ncg—"

_Poor kid, you scared him to death._

She sputtered and cleared her throat trying desperately to stop snickering, feeling super duper guilty for making a scene and terrorizing her new housemate for about the fifth time that night.

"Pfft…spft…*cough*…ahhem. Uh… koman ou ye,Loki?" she asked, attempting to cover up what ridiculous feat she'd just performed.***

Loki lowered his head **painfully** slow from the back of his fortified wall and squinted fiercely at her with the pillow atop his head, only his narrowed eyes and his 'helmet' visible from kneeling behind his garrison, wielded with…what was that in his hand? Was that…the ballpoint pen?

As if he were saying," I have no idea what you said to me,child, but if you take a single step further I have no choice but to take defensive measures."

With a serious glare of his glowing green eyes, he clicked the top with his thumb, exposing the inked tip.

Like, "Be warned. I have a pen."

That. That made her lose it.

"Ba-ha-HAAAAAaaaaAAAAA!" and not caring about her remaining dignity at **all** , she clutched her arms about her waist and proceeded to do a non-hypothetical R.O.T.F.L.

Apparently, Peyton thought this was absolutely hysterical and Loki, clicking the pen back to it's neutral position, couldn't understand why.

*** Translate: "Oh gosh…"**

****I don't think I have to tell you what "manman'w" means.**

*****Alright. She said, "How are you, Loki *insert big grin here* ?" **

**_REVIEW!_**

pweese…


	13. Chapter IX--Savage

OHD is a story of pain, tears, apples, laughter, thievery, knitting, secrets, coffee, embraces, and spasmodic dancing.

**Why helloooooo thereeeeeee! Greetings from Ingamar, my dear readers! Sorry about the delay, how long has it been this time? Too afraid to look. But anyways, if you wanna' know what I've been up to I'll tell you. No not homework, no not job-hunting, no not anything of importance. I actually HAVE been writing, chapters that you guys probably won't see for several months. Why? My friends. Blame my friends. **

**Okay just so you guys know, that last chapter is the last funny one for a while, things start getting weird and a bit deep. So sorry XC. I hate it too. Its probably why they take me so long because I HATE writing them. I *sniffs* just want to get back to the cute funny stuff. *hangs head* But, alas I still have much, much to do. Please enjoy this and *grins menacingly* don't get too scared. 4.28.13**

**Replies:**

**Bibliomaniac—Thank you! One day I shall write a book! *game face* I shall!**

**NoVacancyMind—Hello! Yes Loki and his past…I shall get to that soon, very soon so don't worry your pretty wittle head. *pats* And yes, him talking, that will come soon as well. When? *shifty eyes* I shall not tell you yet(; And yes! That darn coat rack, should have known better and poor Loki, Peyton really needs to stop scaring him, and for this chapter…obviously she hasn't learned how to stop doing that yet. *grins evilly***

**Sparki11—Ah Dowtown Abbey! I'm not the only one who watches that! Hooray! *whistles**screams**wild crowds* I have read a couple of chapters (gosh, I really need to catch up *groans* I'm only on like chapter two so I really need to get cracking) But from what I have read, it's delectably descriptive and funny and I'm SO. FRICKEN. JEALOUS. *sigh* One day I'll be as awesome as you. For now, I'll just have to stick to being mediocre.**

**But….as you say…THANK YOU FOR TELLING ME THAT I *AM* DESCRPTIVE! I TRY SO HARD! And…HOORAY! I am so unbelievably extraordinarily and stupendously happy that you think Peyton is Loki's "perfect" companion! Ahhh! That's so fantastic I could cry! But I don't want to short out my lappy.**

**DO YOU HEAR THAT, DO YOU HEAR THAT, SHE SAYS PEYTON IS HIS PERFECT COMPANION! IN. YOUR. FACES. A—HA!**

** Yes. *pouts* Loki's problem is more daunting than it seems and Peyton's past is…DUN-DUN DUN!...very dark and very mysterious…This fact definitely deepens by the end of the chapter(; So yes, glad you liked your pie and I hope you think this update is "brilliant" as well :D**

**Sparki11(again)—As usual, I love you. So. Much. Yes, both of them need to take at least two steps back and eat some more pie. Loki and his pen. I freaking love him. Thank you! I think that was my best chapter too! Though this one's a bit more dark, I really hope you like it and your interest is ever more piqued. (I do believe the pie thing should be a re-occuring joke with us, what do you think? (; )**

**Extra Note: Okay guys, specific shout out to NoVacancy and Sparki for reviewing every. single. chapter. that they read! There are no words in existence, even for a writer, to describe how appreciative that I am for them. Even if I never get any other reviews, I can always depend on them to send me a bit of their love. I love both of you so much I could scream! Ahhem. SQUEEEEEEEEEE! Okay(: So again thank you SO FRIGGING MUCH FOR ALL OF YOUR SUPPORT! And I will NEVER stop writing as long as I hear such wonderful comments from you both, it means so much to me!**

**Love you all!**

**Disclaimer: Loki *will* be mine…eventually.**

**Warnings: Compassion, shadows, fire, sailboats, monsters who aren't there, and a monster…who really is there.**

**Chapter IX:Day One(still)-Savage**

Our tan-skinned human finally picked herself up off of the ground following a particularly sporadic laughing fit at the poor demigod's silent panic when he built himself a fort out of couch cushions and threatened her with a pen if she'd advanced any hazard towards him after she'd attempted to destroy a certain stubborn coat rack.

Ahhem.

It was not every day one could say that.

Clearing her throat and pulling down her sweater blouse in the back, she felt heat rush to her ears when she beheld Loki staring at her with a stunning combination of confusion and shock, still holding the pen haphazardly in his left palm, prepared for her to strike.

Peyton rolled her eyes up to the ceiling feeling her cheeks darken. She didn't know what it was going to take to convince him that she wasn't going to hurt him. Screaming it at him wouldn't do any good. She knew that from experience.

"Sorry."

In reply he gave a laboured exhale, slightly tottering the green couch arm bolster balanced on his head.

She nervously scraped the wooden floor with the toe of her combat boot.

"Hehe. I'll try not to do that again."

Loki swallowed sharply. He hoped not.

Peyton with a weary sigh put a hand to her lower back as she stooped down to retrieve what had caused all of the chaos in the first place, her pea coat, which was still lying defeatedly on the floor.

She made a face at it.

Slipping the sleek, black sleeve over her spindly arms, hunching it over her shoulders, flipping up the collar, and fastening the buttons she said dismissively, "Be back in a flash." ,striding coolly over the front door.

Loki's heart stopped point blank in his chest, his eyes the size of your average grapefruits.

_Where is she going?_

Loki's lips fell into saddened frown of bewilderment and fear and dejection.

They way she approached the door without looking back, he just knew. Of course. She was deserting him. Of course she was, as same as everyone else did. She was leaving him-alone.

And why wouldn't she?

_But she can't…._

Her dainty finger about to touch the golden door handle, she halted in mid-step and spun in place as he and Peyton's eyes met after Loki had-gasped loudly, did a jump, toppling all of the cushions(including the one on his head), destroying his fort as the pillows gathered lifelessly around his feet. He clutched the fallen arm bolster close to his chest, like it meant his very life, shaking, brows peaked both fearfully and forlornly, completely exasperated, pale-green eyes cementing Peyton to her spot, who at the time, was barely breathing.

As if he was saying, "Please. Don't leave me."

"Oh my go—" she breathed, shifted her eyes back and forth uncertainly, not believing she'd actually seen that.

Crumbling into a mini pity parade, Peyton's heart melted into a cold puddle of misery. He thought she was running away. He thought she was abandoning him. That was about one of the saddest things she could think of, being afraid being left alone.

The fact that he did that…it was almost impossible for Peyton to understand…because…the only reason—could it be? That he felt…maybe…secure with her around?

What. The. Fruit-Basket?

Peyton, unsure of what to do, say, or feel, put a hand up to her face and stared in undefiled disbelief and at the mortified figure.

But how? She was the exact opposite of a safe person. She'd never been a person to rely on...

So how can this be so?

Peyton sighed and slipped her hand down the front of her face in anguish. That was it. That tied the knot. She had been having doubts about deciding to stay, that 'flight' mechanism of her blaring at her to get out while she could. But those sirens were quieted now. No. She wouldn't go. She couldn't take it any longer. How had she even entertained the idea of leaving him in this state of his? He was terrified of being abandoned. No. She wasn't going anywhere.

Peyton with her enormous dark brown eyes poured themselves straight into his, not breaking their prolonged gaze for quite some time.

_I won't leave you._

"I'm just going to pop out for a sec', alright?"

Loki still looked frightened and alarmed to an extreme degree, refusing to unlock his unwavering gaze on her, continuing to wrap his arms tight to his little pillow.

She assured, with her best look of confidence and poise, "I'm not going anywhere," she gave a composed nod, "Really."

Continuing to gaze at her longingly, Loki was obviously still unconvinced.

Peyton looked him straight in the eyes as she motioned towards the window over the sink where he could see the great apple tree swaying the wind. She thought maybe he might feel better if he knew she would be in view. _Good idea._

As if to a five-year-old, she bent over, and smiled softly as she spoke hearteningly with a hopeful tone, "If you wanna see me I'll be right outside that window."

Loki craned his body around to peer through the panes and saw the eerie branches beating around in the air against a darkening , cerise sky and at the spooky sight he gulped and turned back to Peyton.

She knew that she really didn't **need **his permission, and Peyton especially didn't like asking permission from **anyone, **but she acceded, "Is that okay?"

His brows lowered in confusion. _She doesn't need my consent._

Though he didn't understand, he gave a nod that was so minute that Peyton just had to assume that he agreed because it didn't even looked like his head had even moved. She cracked open the door, the wind shoving and squeezing through and whipping her hair in a tousle.

"I'm not going anywhere." Those sparkling black eyes of her danced brightly, the breeze still caressing her raven locks, tossing them about. "I promise."

He relaxed slightly, taking his eyes away from her finally. She said those words. Those words that held so much. I promise.

Exhaling, she took that response and figured it was 'safe' to go, giving a final reassuring smile; she disappeared behind the door with the click of the latch.

Loki was feeling pretty okay for a few seconds.

Riiiiight up until that door shut.….

Then it was over.

As if someone had flipped a switch, Loki's body was suddenly turned on vibrate mode, trembling intensely as his eyes flickered fearfully about the room.

The table. The couch. The lamp. The chair. The coat rack. Everything around him seemed to cast threatening, phantom shadows, growing and pressing themselves against the walls and floors, dancing and stretching towards him in the light of the fireplace and the oil lamp by his side. All of the furniture itself grew broadened Cheshire smiles, grinning forebodingly and whispering amongst themselves, cackling menacingly.

Loki turned as white as a sheet, his lip quivering, gave a puppy-like whimper, and pulled his legs up off from the floor and held them close to him, then clamped his eyes, and shivering, buried his face into his little cushion, waiting for something to reach out and touch him, bringing him to his death.

_WE'RE COMING…._

Out of the blue, he heard cracking noises emanating from outside the house, sounding like enormous footsteps getting closer and closer. His mouth went dry.

Crunch!

Silence.

Smash!

Silence.

Feeling like he was taking his last few breaths of life, gathering what very little was left off of his courage, Loki fastened his fingers on the edge of the sofa and using all of his strength, lifted his head bit by bit from behind the couch, eyes bulging from his head, and looked to a fixed point in the kitchen.

A ghastly silhouette was facing him from the exterior of the tiny filmy window, breath appearing in billowy white clouds in front of the dark, widowy figure while the sharp noises continued.

Loki almost died.

Forthwith, there was a muffled slam from outdoors, rattling the external wall, then a spine-chilling moan. Loki's heart leapt as he gave an undignified squeak.

When he dared opened his eyes again, the spectre was gone, replaced again by the sight of that eerie, spindly tree against the violet skies.

Groans accompanied by shuffled footsteps, gradually approached the front door and with every thump Loki shaking more and more as they sounded like the final poundings of his heart.

SLAM!

The door busted wide open and standing there in the entranceway was the gloomy shape of a heavily panting figure, stooped over with a grotesque mound soaking in the left hand by its belly and a double-headed axe held downwards in its right, dripping viscous fluid onto the floor.

"GRRRAAAWWRRRR!" it howled.

"*gasp*"

Poor Loki then, my dear readers, passed out. Fainted straight backwards onto the couch.

"Grrrrrarrr," moaned the barbarian, kicking the door, setting down the pick-axe down by the floor, trying not to drop its load.

"Oooof!"

Skidding on a puddle of gathered liquid on the ground as it staggered labouriously into the living room, the monster grumbled unintelligible curse words as it put out its left arm to stable itself, knowing it would have to mop all of that up later so as not to cause further stumbles.

The beast advanced into the kitchen, not noticing the collapsed demigod sprawled out on the sofa, giving strained grunts and leaving a trail of drops of the melted substance slipping through its fingers all the way.

Fumbling over to the sink, the ogre, with an "Umph", heaved the cumbersome cargo into the sink with a splitting crack, and snatched the dishtowel hanging over the oven and dried its hands and the sleeves of its black coat, shivering considerably and grumbling something patronizingly underneath its breath as it juddered, something about "Stupid Asgard…munaafddvavd… dumb weather…vddvaggghudda…sposta' be warm…grvrveddmnn!"

Heading away from the kitchen and stamping over to the hearth, it shook off its sleek, black, and now soaking pea coat and tossed it over the fireplace screen, muttering something about, "Mrrhrreremm…can't even get it dry-cleaned here…vrrhurrmur."

As it turned around to warm its body, the creature did a double-take, finally becoming aware of the unconscious personage who was uncustomarily spread-out over the long, forest coloured couch.

"Woah, what the—what?" spoke the being, glancing uncertainly about the room with a raised eyebrow, praying no one had come in during her absence and clonked him over the head with a candlestick or knocked him out wrench or lead pipe, or hung him with a rope, or stabbed him with a knife, or shot him with a revolver…because the fiend really didn't feel like playing CLUE right about now.

He appeared unusually pale, like ground zero-white, his face blank and pallid, his raven hair spanning out wildly, and the sight of a possibly dead person made it sick, "Loki?" it whispered apprehensively with a croak, hoping he was still alive.

The savage cautiously hobbled over and lifting up a limp snowy wrist, put its fingers beneath his thumb to feel for a pulse. Fortunately enough before it could feel a gentle thud, Loki came to life as the man's vivid bottle-green eyes snapped open and his mouth drew in a deeply mortified gasp and, as quick as lightning seizing hold of his security-blanket—that is— arm bolster, he thrusted himself to opposite side of the couch closest to the door, scrabbling his entire body into a tight ball with his eyes closed, terror-stricken.

"Hey-hey-hey!" it cried in shock, eyes wide as soccer balls, taking a step back with its hands in the air, "Calm down, slugger!"

Loki , realizing he'd only possibly put himself in more danger, spontaneously pivoted his head towards the door in horror, blearily blinking his eyes. Resting by the wall was the deadly weapon, a pick-axe, surrounding it, a puddle, not of blood, but of water and raising his head overlooking his protective cushion into the kitchen, in the sink was not a pile of bodily organs, but of—and he craned his neck—it was transparent crystallized mound of some sort. What was that? Ice?

His eyes came back around a rested on his blood-thirsty murderer, who was looking ever more haunted in bewilderment. It was only a small girl. And as Loki's eyes came into focus, a VERY small girl, with dusty skin and freckles and black hair with curls at the end, staring at him in wonder with—_my word_—awfully dark brown and exceptionally tremendous eyes, unsaid to be ginormous with accordance to her face and thankfully, quite innocent as well.

Peyton blinked her naturally wide, cat-shaped eyes and said with undiluted anxiousness in her voice, "You okay?"

Loki shook, his gaze pivoting in trepidation around him, she noticed, particularly at the window, clutching still to the pillow.

"I—I think you fainted—" she said, her voice trailing off as she followed his gaze to the little window above the sink, wondering what he was looking at.

Peyton watched him swallow harshly, pinning his eyes to the window in fear. Observing the hazy outline of the apple tree and the gloomy silhouette of the dark, mysterious woods not meters away, unexpectedly, she felt herself gulp too, unsure of why.

"There's no one out there, Loki." she announced nervously after some time, attempting to keep her clear, news-caster-like voice, still trying to convince herself that it was true, "There's no one there."

Eventually he unhitched his gaze from the panes and onto the tiny frame, his jade irises glowing, and to Peyton's relief, a tad less scared.

She smiled again, with her little gap between her teeth showing, "You okay?"

He nodded, though trying to keep his eyes locked on her and away from window.

Appeased, Peyton nodded and made certain to sustain her view in his general direction as she moved over to the fireplace and , as soon as she sat, rubbed her hands together and bared her chest, bathing in its rejuvenating warmth.

"It's fricken ARTIC out there man, you have no idea." she commented hissing, rolling up her sleeves and thawing her arms.

Getting situated once more and slightly releasing his stone grip on his favorite pillow; he raised an eyebrow in confusion. _Artic?_

She turned her face towards the flames and leaned into the fiery embers and let them toast her face and chest.

"Then I guess if it wasn't, it really wouldn't be December, huh?" she exhaled thoughtfully, mostly making the remark to herself.

Peyton sighed pleasurably, no doubt becoming quite comfortable by the fire, took the ends of the sleeves of her pale-green sweater blouse into her knuckles and pulling them down to some extent, showing her bespeckled shoulders. She began to relax as she allowed her mind to drift away on a little sailboat, far away from Ingamar and from Asgard.

She closed her eyes and watched the boat float towards the horizon on the gentle indigo waters, lapping up at the sides and pushing it further. The warmth of the setting sun was charming it, drawing the tiny boat closer. The blazes just felt so…good.

Little did she realize that, she'd let her boat wander a bit too far, and though the feeling was wonderful, serene, and alluring, like for most people, it was also deadly. And by most people, that is specifically, Peyton.

Her eyes fell shut like a groaning prison door, and then a low slam as it closed, locking something inside. Instantaneously, her eyes reopened, clicking as chambers unfastened and creaking as another door opened, letting something else back out. Something foreign.

There was a quiet radiating clang of a faraway gong being struck with a mallet.

Raising her head, her irises pooled into an unlit black, not too much darker than they were before, but though she didn't look too much different, something was greatly amiss.

Her lids fluttered open, her vision adjusting as they came upon the fire. She drew back and stared at the burning hearth, puzzledly. She knit her brows and stared into the dancing flames.

They didn't have a fireplace.

Turning her head, she gazed curiously around the unfamiliar room, feeling a bit lost. Lost but never afraid. Because **she **never got afraid.

She was in a little house with a fireplace, not in the apartment.

Her head rotated in a one-eighty motion from left to right, eyes panning from the bathroom to the credenza beside it to the table to a beautiful wingback chair in front of it, skipping over the couch and over to a quaint little kitchen area. Then something caught the corner of her eye. The protractor negated backwards and landed. At exactly ninety-four degrees. There? No there. The little couch. There was someone there.

Her eyes opened and her lips formed an 'o' shape.

There was a man. Yes, there was…a man on the couch.

_Ooh. Who are yewww?_

He had pale skin and jet black hair falling softly besides his ears and past his shoulders. Though he was wearing what seemed like a heavy cloak, she could tell he was lean and very, very tall. And those eyes. They met with hers. They were gleaming quietly like emeralds, pouring up and down her curiously. And she noticed, rather quickly, he was quite attractive, quite. She liked that. And he was staring at her. She liked that too.

She gave a mischievous half-smile her pointed canines bared dangerously, keeping her eyes on the man that she just **happened **to be alone with.

"Peyton, Peyton, Peyton," she wagged her head pompously, tossing her shining locks behind her shoulders, grinning in wicked delight, whispered amiably under her breath with a fake sigh, "What didja do this time?"

She touched her red lips with a sharp-nailed finger, her black eyes sparklingly poignantly. "And who is this thatcha've brought me?"

Loki only stared. Worry increasing in his face as the allotted time of their eye-contact increased.

"Mezanmi," she purred.

_One so…handsome too._

She smiled.

Though Loki hadn't heard what she said, he was growing progressively more afraid. Not knowing why though, just suddenly feeling the loom of danger drape over him.

Peyton stood suavely, flicking a few tresses of her swirled hair behind her back and inhaled deeply, arching her back, and puffing out her front, well aware that her blouse was beginning to dip considerably.

"Hel-loah." she cooed, batting her curly lashes.

His eyes tickered about for a moment, in confusion, then looking away from her with, she again noticed, his cheeks tingeing a bit pink.

Peyton did a low, cheeky giggle. _He's nervous too._

As she took a few steps towards him, his eyes met with hers again, filled with a new bloom of…dread.

Dread. She feasted off of it. She could taste it.

Her voice was more thickly accented than usual but more deep and velvety, "Don't be scayd'. I don't bite. Unless of coawse, I feel liyke' it."

Loki' heart ceased beating, because now he definitely felt in risk.

This only made Peyton's face go impiously half-lidded as she devilishly pursed her lips, taking delicate strides, with her hips swaying back and forth, back and forth.

His cheeks went rosier.

Peyton only ate it up, smiling ever more wildly, not unlike the fiendish Cheshires of Loki's daymare, her irises darkened to jewels of pure ink.

Because she just knew.

Even though she hadn't the faintest idea who this man was…

She was about to find out.

**_REVIEW!(to find out what happened)_**

Or else…


	14. Chapter X--DID (AKA longest chapter)

OHD is a story where crap happens. That's it.

**I am not going to trouble you guys for the legitimate reason I haven't updated for the story would be a lot longer than the chapter itself. I'm just glad to be back. Please enjoy this super bumfuzzling chapter((:**

**Replies: **

**AngelicScream—Hello new reviewer! Welcome to Ingamar! I. Am. So. Happy. That. You. Like. This. THAT IS MY PURPOSE! I really, really, really hope I keep you interested in this story! It makes me sad to think people give up on this story and leave it because it seems boring because, to be truly honest, these chapters are utter trash compared to the things that are going to happen in the future. You just have *sigh* bear with me and endure day one. Please. But THANK YOU dearly for staying captivated and keeping up with this drawling little plotline! Much freakiness ensues in this extra-long chapter so I hope you enjoy it!**

**Sparki111—Okay hold up, you changed your username and added an extra one O.O at first I thought I was going crazy! But anyway wuzzup girlfriend! Thank you! "Bril". I think I'm going to use that word now. So thank you! And hopefully this chapter will make you fifteen times more confused than you were already! Please enjoy it! I ask you and preferably anyone else reading to take notes to ask me questions later or you will be severely left behind.**

**Disclaimer: Peyton is a thief. Of course everything is mine. Haha. Lol. Just kidding…kind of.**

**Warnings: Utter ludicrousness. Two is back. **

**Hide your wife. **

**Hide your kids. **

**And definitely hide anyone moderately appeasing to the eyes.**

**Chapter X: Day One—D.I.D.**

**Oh wait. Hold up guys before I begin. I just want to inform you that Peyton is NOT a vampire. I know that seems like that most random comment in the WHOLE WORLD but trust me…if I didn't tell you, that's what you guys would be thinking. Because. The way that I describe her in this chapter, gives off that impression very. very well. So for Twilight-ers, sorry, I don't do demonic creatures, including vampires, sorry to disappoint you. Hopefully that will make you more curious as to what exactly Peyton really is(;**

-December First, Two-Thousand and Thirteen

Even though she hadn't the faintest idea who this man was…

She was about to find out.

The young woman strutted towards the wary demigod, the heavy heels of her sleek combat boots thumping on the old wooden floors, approaching closer to the couch—his couch—a comical look of pleasure painted on her face, the corners of her lips tugging up at the side and reddening as she bit them .

Loki was scooting more and more in reverse against the arm of the long couch attempting to get further from her, his heart pounding like a snare drum beneath his chest, not knowing why Peyton was getting so close to him and looking so…dastardly in particular.

She stopped right by his foot, hand sited not on her hip, but questionably on her thigh, head cocked slightly to the right, her eyes roving about the length of his body almost…appetizingly.

Loki felt a knot develop deep in his throat, losing the ability to swallow correctly and gulped thickly, beginning once more to tremble. Because…he didn't feel like he was in the room with same person anymore, what was going on?

He wasn't given any time to deliberate.

Out of the blue, Peyton pounced like wildcat over to his face hovering over his chest, and purred, "Boo."

Loki squeaked like a mouse and scrabbled away, kicking as he grappled over to the edge of the sofa, about to fall off.

Peyton threw her head back and gave a low, teasing chuckle.

"I'm beginning to like this already." she purred, advancing even nearer to him, her witch-like fingers touching the fringe of his cape, Loki too afraid to snatch it away and in too much pain to leap off of the couch and escape.

Peyton leaned over and elongated herself above his shoulder now, her raven hair just brushing him, staring ever intently at him, Loki able to tell by her stance she was about to attack again.

Suddenly she gazed to his to the purple scars ensconced about his thin lips with a look of perplexity and then, to his dismay, intrigue.

"What happened to your mouth," she reached out to touch it but he jerked away just in time, shaking and Peyton ignored his indignant response.

She smiled enticingly with a voice full of evil smoothness, "That better not be what I think it is."

Loki's eyes pivoted about confusingly, unsure of what she was talking about. He just wanted her to go away. As soon as possible.

"I hope so," her canines appeared unusually pointed like white daggers, glinting venomously in front of his face.

He forgot to breathe.

Her nose ticked.

Peyton frowned. _Uh oh._

Nose-twitching was always a bad sign.

She had a good feeling this one was going to be fun. Really fun. And no baby-faced, pleasure-stealin', freckled-cheeked **fool** was going to stop her until she got what she wanted. Not this time.

Peyton slid her hand up his arm and rested it pertly on his shoulder, not caring that her weight was crushing his broken ribs, piercing into his chest and slowly choking him.

Loki was too horrified to move an inch, paralyzed yet quaking in pure fear of this human, of whom he had the assurance was going to cause him great harm very, very soon.

The girl leaned in towards his head, the gap between them narrowing dramatically, instantly all of the blood drained from his face and Loki's mouth drew back in a bone-chilling scream, though no sound left his lips.

The child gradually approached the terrified being, beads of sweat developing on his forehead and his throat running dry. He wanted to yell ,but nothing came, he wanted to push the little wench away and hide, but he simply didn't have the strength, she was smashing his vital organs. Said vital organs included his lungs and heart and it was becoming more agonizing to breathe by the second.

He crammed his eyes shut, waiting for the shots of searing pain of her pointed fangs to sinking into his head.

She was about an inch away, just an inch from success, when she was halted by a deafening shrill that shockwaved through her mind, causing her to shrink back and slap her hands over her ears. "Ahhh!"

_"STOP IT!"_

Peyton cried out aloud, wincing at the volume of the shout.

_"LEAVE HIM ALONE!"_

The sound scattered her thoughts like television snow, rambling and shrieking. She could ... hear the other's thoughts. That was definitely new.

"How are you-" she cringed again, still having her hands clapped over her head, "-doing that?!"

Loki gasped and looked around apprehensively, confused and afraid wondering what he did.

_"TOUCH HIM AND I'LL MUTILATE YOU!"_

"I don't think that's even possible," and she searched for that little thing she'd always hated to be called, and sneered through the aching in her head, "-Pookie."

_"Grr! Don't EVER call me that!"_

Peyton could feel the other gritting her teeth in aggravation. Smiling, she taunted, "But I thought you liked that nickname-Pookabear."

"OWW!"

A rush of new static buzzed through her head as-

_"JUST GET THE HECK AWAY FROM HIM HE'S MINE!"_

Peyton pushed through the pain she felt dragging down the ends of her lips and played up a crude, mocking smile, knowing exactly how to respond.

"Aww. Always saving the good ones for yourself, huh Pooka?," she teased snidefully, winking at Loki who had just then become to feel quite ill.

"But I should have guessed...you never did like to share..." she smirked.

Peyton could hear the hissing.

_"THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT AND YOU KNOW THAT!"_

Peyton chuckled deridingly, "Don't be so shoah," as she remembered another name,"Kit Kat," and she brushed Loki's cheek with the back of her hand, making him shudder as a new wave of fear and sickness splashed over him.

"Though I gotta say you and I are developing a simila' taste, I've neva' known YOU to be the one to go after the-" and she grinned so wickedly Loki went faint, "-olda' ones."

_"SHUT UP MALPWOPTE!"_

"Ooh, cursin' me out in Creole now, huh? Now what would Ma say about that?"

Peyton beamed, showing she was thoroughly enjoying this...argument of theirs...that wasn't actually happening. She loved this. She previously had never been able to communicate with her before, now she was taking full advantage of this new feature, "You never learned how ta' controa' yo' mouth either. But that's to be expected…from a rat."

Loki's breathing became dangerously swift and raspy, causing her herself to bob up and down with the rise and fall of his lungs he was respiring so fast. Because-he had just come across the horrific realization-Peyton. Was. Actually. NOT. Talking to **him**. And that was more frightening than all of it.

"I'm not going to hurt him," she purred, gazing into glowing green Loki's eyes that were dancing about in mortified bemusement, mouth still agaped, struggling to understand what was happening as his strained breaths continued to quicken.

"I just want to play..." she spun a piece of her hair between her forefinger and purred enticingly, blanketing herself ever more onto the stranger.

_"I DON'T GIVE TWO FLIPS, SECONDARY! GET OFF OF HIM NOW!"_

"Don't call me Secondary, I want a real name."

_"Well that sucks, now get up off my roommate!"_

"What? Your roommate?" she grinned oh-so devilishly, "Oh, this just keeps getting bedda and bedda."

_What? _Loki gasped aloud and she, upon hearing this, gave him that vicious Cheshire again that haunted his very nightmares.

She never asked for much. But this one for certain was going to take a bit more coercion than it usually would've for most. But hey, she always in the mood for a good fight.

_" GET AWAY NOW YOU BOUZIN!"_

Peyton tutted and shook her head in false disappointment, "Tsk-tsk. Language, is that anyway to speak to ya' playmate?"

_"ARGH!"_

Peyton cocked her head to the side and bobbed it sassily with her lips pursed, and sucked her teeth in an extended peal, "Shtccuuuuuu!" and continued, "Guurlll, you just mad gurlfren' 'cuz you just jelly that _I _got to him _first_!" and she hummed lustfully, smirking pleasantly at Loki.

He almost vomited.

Peyton could feel the counterpart facepalm in her mind.

"_IF YOU LAY ONE FINGER, TWO, ON HIM I'M GOING TA-"_

"Too late, I've awlready laid a finger," her voice went urbanely low as she hummed, "Several in fact" , she walked her two longest fingers up his chest like a runway, grinning ever so more dangerously as her claws tiptoed across the surface of his cloak.

Loki closed his eyes tightly and a tremoring tear trickled down his cheek.

"Aww. Lookatim Pay, you mayde him cry" she crooned, when really her emotions were as cold as the surface of his skin.

_"NO YOU DID, YOU LITTLE TRAMP!"_

Peyton shook her head again and pouted sneeringly.

"Hey! That really hurt, Pay, how dare you call me that!" she said jeeringly, obviously not offended in the faintest. In reality, she couldn't give two manmanw's what she thought, just because they shared bodies didn't mean...

Peyton acceded with honeyed words, "I just like getting what I want-" she knew just how to get her, "-just like you."

_"SHUT UP, I AM __**NOTHING**__ LIKE YOU!"_

Peyton just smiled. And smiled and smiled. Because this time she didn't even have to try. She made that one too easy. Her big, red lips curled into a perfect purse. Her accent gracing the words delectably.

"Yes you awre."

This time there was no reply.

Because like always. She had won. Again.

So she had thought.

Something smashed against her brain and Peyton cried out in torment as the screams were louder than before.

_"GET THE HECK AWAY FROM HIM! RIGHT! NOW!"_

Peyton's brain was whirring with two different thought patterns coiling about inside like tangled phone cords. Her senses were withering as she felt pinging in her ears and a veil over her eyes. She knew what that meant. She was fading and she knew she wasn't going to be staying out much longer. But she wouldn't give up.

She shook her head against the pain and tapped her chin, "No. No I don't think I will..."

She could feel the desperation in the other voice.

_"Ugh! Please! Can't you see he's been hurt?!"_

Her eyebrow rose. Had she just said please?

Peyton ran her eyes around the worn body she was sloped over; she could feel the tears in his skin. With her keenly sensitive nose she could even...smell blood. Her face softened and her conscience pricked her for a half a millisecond, wondering if she should maybe reconsider this, then like a bubble, bursted instantly.

"I'll be shoar to keep that in mind."

Loki was watching with paramount incredulity this child who was speaking to herself intensely. Having what seemed like…a conversation with someone whom he couldn't see and he felt himself about to have a stroke.

She smirked, coming up with another smart thing to say.

"Always givin' me the broken toys huh, Pay?"

She giggled lightly and sighed, bringing herself closer to her victim.

"But that's okay, that should make things...interesting."

Loki's heart stopped. Make what? Make what interesting?

_"NO!"_

Loki feel her breath as she closed in, her knife-life teeth about to come in contact with his neck. He was so utterly mortified he did something that only much, much later he would be relieved that he did.

From power that could have only have been derived from pure, unadulterated fear and adrenalin, before the pointed tip of her canines could stave into his skin, in a final thrust of strength, he took hold of her forearms with his hands and with a scream of undiluted dread, with all of his might, hoisted the little girl and threw her upper body from off of him.

Having used a force harder than he thought and on one so small as well, she propelled from off the sofa and onto the floor, and tumbling she fell against the her antique wingback chair and slammed her head against the foot of the furniture with a painfully loud whack.

Loki gasped in panic with another high pitched scream as he crammed himself into the couch in horror, eyes wider than they'd ever been. He hadn't meant to do that. From afar, he observed her, waiting to see a pool of crimson seep out beside the human from underneath the chair. But, and he thanked the Norns several times, there was none.

Peyton's body was unmoving for a few moments as her hair was over her face, crumbled over by the burgundy chair.

Then without even the slightest warning, Peyton tossed her head up, whipping her billowy tresses from her eyes, revealing a face he wouldn't be forgetting anytime soon.

Her unlit irises were enlarged, flickering menacingly back and forth from an inky pitch to an almost imperceptibly lighter black coffee, the whites of her eyes enhancing the very pits of the darkness and emphasizing the differs in the flashing colours.

Her vision was beginning to blur and Peyton could feel her essence slipping away into oblivion and something rapidly replacing it and she growled wildly, gnashing her jaws in rage, knowing she didn't have much time left. She was fading.

"I just—wanted-" she panted through gritted teeth cadaverously, sounding much like a possessed kindergartener about to have a tantrum, "—to. Play."

Loki went cold. And that rarely happened.

Her face was twisted into the most hideous scowl, mouth drawn out into the tight, skewed lines. And worst of all, her canines seemed to have lengthened, fangs hanging threateningly down from the either side of her reddened lips like a saber, appearing even more elongated as her mouth parted when she sibilated, panting harshly, her final words with more murder in her voice than he could've ever imagined, "I-will-come back-for you-" she shouted with her last ounce being, eyes flickering shades of black, "YOU LOUW-SY LITTLE KILLJOY!"

Loki's heart stopped beating.

With that, fluttering her eyelids, her head dropped, as she lay in limp pile of the floor, dreadfully still.

Loki was devoid of every evidence of life. Suddenly he scuttled off of the sofa to the ground, giving a tiny yelp of pain, scrabbled around the side on his hands and knees, dragging his lame leg, he padded achingly behind the back of the couch. Trembling greatly Loki cramped into a tight wad and pressed himself against the upholstery and lamented, eyes screwed shut, reducing himself to nothing. He'd killed her.

So he thought...

Somewhere there was a distant brong of a tolling gong being slammed by a felted hammer. But Loki didn't hear it.

There was a creak of some great door swinging open and a deep clang of it shutting, barring the way of a malignant foe. There were several clicks of junctions being unlocked and a stuttering grate of another aperture unbolting, releasing some poor, trifling hostage...

"Uhn..."

Heavy lids fluttered open and for a few moments all the world was dark and silent until her senses adjusted to the light and colours and sounds of her new surroundings.

As she faded into consciousness, she was panged by violent throbs of a merciless headache like one wouldn't believe, making her groan.

She blinked dumbly at the air, her eyes illustriously brightening from dark coal to a deep brown, finally beginning to see dim shapes. She was starting to feel her limbs and realized...she was on the floor...by her chair.

She moaned again and began to lift herself up and grimaced as she was overcome by slaps of pain and gingerly lowered herself back down. _Mistake._

Her mind felt virtually empty until, like a French train rushing down its tracks, she was crashed with all of her thoughts.

And finally she was allowed the ability to rationalize aloud, "The heck am I doing over here?"

Upon hearing her voice again, Loki's eyes snapped open, pupils dilated to the size of a pinmarks and he swallowed harshly. Once again, shaking, he prayed that she wouldn't come over to him.

Peyton blinked again as her vision completely arbitrated to its natural state. Though she was feeling a bit dizzy and kind of confused, suddenly that became completely irrelevant, when her eyes settled on the long velvet green couch, which, for the first time since that very afternoon, was empty.

Her pain in her head immediately vanished with this burst of spontaneous discomfort, not knowing what to think of this seemingly perilous situation. She had been knocked out on the floor and nowhere to be found was her—Peyton suddenly leapt up off the ground and cried out anxiously, standing with a bit of difficulty—"Loki?"

Loki's heart jumped again, almost squealing aloud, sweat trickled down his forehead, waiting for the precise moment for her to discover him and dismember him. He couldn't even breathe.

Worry was weighing down in her voice as she repeated, "Loki?"

So many graphic scenarios were combusting in her mind, she began to feel sick and her breathing was becoming more rapid by the second.

There was still no reply.

She imagined some sort of monster busting through the door and massacring the injured demigod.

Quivering and now scared beyond belief, in a final attempt to save her wits Peyton shouted, "Loki!"

Loki couldn't take the pressure anymore and let out a muffled whimper.

Peyton's apprehensive visage completely eased and the worry lines and horrified frown melted away into the greatest look of relief supplied by an exhale and a countenance of utmost appeasement.

Unto her knowledge, her canines receded into her jaw to some extent like a retracting blade as she smiled, in a more mischievous way than evil as she sang, "I know that whi-ineeeee."

There was a little inhale and some dull shuffling and as she glanced about puzzledly, the noise had come-she covered her mouth and gave a silent giggle-from behind the couch.

_Gotcha._

She tapped her and said with a sneaky air, "Hmmm, I wonder where Loki is?" she scratched the top of her head in fake confusion and said cheerfully, "*gasp* He seems to have gone missing!" and she slapped her hands to her cheeks.

"Woohoo, where art thou, Loki?"

No answer.

A sly grin slithered across her lips and as quietly as a mouse, cupped her hands, and tiptoed around the bend over to the sofa, and poked her head over the couch with a , "Well hiya!"

The following event made her seriously reevaluate her decision to do that.

Upon seeing the human child, Loki screamed like a four year old girl, and crawled away until his back hit the kitchen cabinet nearby, grappling up all of his injured extremities in one arm, and covering the surface of his face with the other hand.

Peyton, as opposite her usual, didn't get angry at him. Instead, she just stared at the terrorized figure in wary astonishment, reading his face for clues as why he acted that way. So far it was pretty normal for him to be afraid of her, but never this badly. This time he resembled that of an overgrown Chihuahua, appearing blatantly weak and feeble, trembling violently, and whimpering with eyes bugged out of average proportion.

Peyton wondered what had happened while...

Her eyes fell away to the fireplace, still charring away at the smoldering logs, burning as brightly as ever with as comforting crackle.

Peyton's heart stopped.

She realized she couldn't remember anything.

_Wait. Hadn't I been sitting over there bef-_

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden rapacious itch flaming on her left wrist. Overcome with the violent urge, she scraped savagely at the vicious scar beneath her palms, leaving rakes of jagged red with her ferocious fingernails, panting with the fiery pain radiating from her arm.

Loki watched with growing trepidation as she scratched monstrously at this rough disk of scab on her wrist, beginning to feel very freaked out.

Breathing heavily, after scrabbling furiously at herself for a few seconds, took her hand away and gasped at the sight. Normally the scar was rather off-putting considering how horrendously ugly it was, but in this case it was revolting. No longer a deep pink, it turned a bright purple, feeling alight like fire set upon the weeping skin.

Staring at the fresh blood starting to peek out from the dry slits of her patch, Peyton felt quite amazed. Because. As a habit, she had nervous, beast-like bursts of itchiness on her wrist whenever something was really, REALLY amiss.

Peyton's eyes revolved from her wrist, to the hearth, to her wrist again, and finally upon Loki who looked as fearful as ever.

Unexpectedly, she launched her wrist into her mouth and sucked intensively at the immense rash, drawing the oozing blood out from the wound and between her lips. Lewdly, she tore it away and hissing, she explored the grooves and crevices with her finger, hoping that her deductive reasoning was false. Really really hoping.

She peered down again at her housemate on the floor, looking at her with such a way it made her want to just die.

Something was wrong. And, unfortunately, she had pretty good hunch what it was.

Out of the blue she cried out softly, "No."

She shook her head painfully slow and just echoed the same word, "No."

Her eyes widened with paramount incredulity.

_No. I couldn't have-_

She did and she knew it. All the evidence pointed to it. The fireplace. The blackout. The itch. His fear. All of it directed itself all the way back to her. And she knew this had to be really bad because she couldn't remember a darn thing.

She'd had another episode.

"D-I-D." she whispered ghoulishly to herself.

Loki stared at her in the greatest mixture of fear and confusion, not wanting her to get one step closer, wishing she would just get as far away as possible and leave him alone.

He was looking at her like she was some sort of beast. Like she had two heads.

And she was. And she had.

But which one?

Peyton's mind raced as she tried to figure out what could've occurred while she was unconscious.

Well...since he was still alive, she could automatically rule out one particular option.

He didn't seem to have a black eye or any bruises. At least any _new_ ones that could have been made in the last few minutes. That was another off the list.

He was still completely clothed so that kind of summed up the rest of it.

So what had happened?

Peyton decided to try something.

She knew herself more than anyone did and who exactly liked to make sudden appearances when she least expected.

She sighed.

It was disgusting and totally not her, but she needed to try it, praying she would be wrong about all of this and was just worrying too much like she always did.

Taking a deep breath, all at once, she narrowed her eyes into narrow slits, pursed her lips, leaned slightly to the left, sited her hand sassily on her hip, and said suavely, purposely emphasizing her accent purred with a wink, "How you doin'?"

Almost immediately Loki squeaked and pressed himself closer to the wall and wrapped both his arms about his legs and cowered.

Peyton gasped aloud at this reaction.

Because he experiment proved accurate.

_Oh no._

Peyton probably would have preferred the idea that someone else broke into the house and gave Loki a horrible fright. Because then she wouldn't have to put the blame on something completely different, herself.

Deriving from the way he recoiled from her the way he did, only left a singular culprit caught in black and white.

Secondary stage.

Peyton slapped both hands over her face and through her fingers gave a muffled chant, "No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. Noooo-wuh!"

Loki jumped.

_Why did it have to be her?!_

She took away one of her hands, only revealing her right, deep brown eye, to his surprise, twitching considerably.

She opened her mouth as if to mention something but on a second thought, clamped it back shut.

Because.

What could she possibly say?

That was just it. There **was **nothing she could say. At least without sounding like a total looney, which she was certain he already thought of her.

Loki needn't know about that problem of hers.

Something that she kept so secret, and so hidden, she hardly remembered it herself. She was good, so good at hiding it. It had been several weeks in fact since she had a little outbreak, that time with Third stage.

She paused. She couldn't decipher who was worse.

They were all mendacious.

Two though, in particular, was an utter…tramp…and whenever there was an opportunity to avail herself, she would. At _Peyton's_ expense.

Sometimes she would wake up in the weirdest places and the...most compromising of situations.

There was that time when she was in the storage room of that Chinese restaurant...

A chill climbed up her spine and she shivered she wagged her head to dismiss the memory.

She hated the awkward, empty feeling she got after one of her episodes. Not knowing what sort of chaos she'd caused. Having to apologize for things she wasn't even aware she'd done. She hated it.

Now she'd had one right in front of her new roommate. Specifically, a roommate with enough emotional distress to satisfy several suicidal personages, who had like-for real- JUST gotten to used to her. Had just begun to trust her and then...

Peyton grinded her teeth.

...then this had to happen. Shatter it to pieces.

Her breathing became quicker and unintentionally her hands balled into tight fists until her knuckles turned a bright yellow.

Loki's eyes piqued.

She felt a spring leap up behind her eyes.

_Why. Why do they have to ruin everything?!_

Peyton looked up from the floor and at the disturbed demigod and blinked back tears that she refused to release.

Loki observed her inner conflict in scared silence, unsure of whether to try and escape or just wait to see what happened, awaiting his timely demise with morbid curiosity.

Though there was something familiar...like something strange occurred when she was by the fireplace and again when she hit her head on the chair. It was all quite a debilitating quandary, for he couldn't decipher what it was. Before the collision, she was being very strange and gruesomely crude. It was horrifying. Her voice-her stride. It sounded deranged just entertaining the idea but even-her eyes—

looked different. A bit darker than they already had been. More mysterious. More hard. More cruel.

Peyton was peering down again straight into the floor, not knowing Loki was still observing her, calculating what could have occurred just a second ago and when she would attack again.

He saw her eyes. They weren't quite so black as they were a moment ago. Her body language read hurt and shamefulness. Not unlike his.

She seemed back to how she was before. Less confident, more concealed like usual.

But that meant nothing. In a second she could snap again. Condemn him to his death.

_What did she do to you?_

Peyton was still deliberating, wondering whether or not she should tell him, to try to explain all of this. Whatever 'this' just happened to have been.

They way he shook, something must have occurred, something to scar him this way.

Maybe that's how she'd ended up on the floor. Maybe he was trying to defend himself against her.

Though Peyton head throbbed a bit, and though it was **her** own body he'd injured, she couldn't help mentally commending him. _Good. Good for him._

Maybe that's what made her cut out of it. Who knows what Two might have done if she'd stayed out any longer.

She shuddered once more, not wanting to think about it.

Peyton had to say something anything. But she couldn't explain to Loki those things. Not just yet.

Her mouth opened and this time she left it ajar for several moments in prolonged silence.

"Did she-," she shook her head and corrected herself before he could catch it, "-I mean, did I-"

She stared right into his earnest face that was waiting to hear her, and muttered sullenly,

"-hurt...you?'"

Loki was taken aback by such words. He was expecting something more along the lines of, "Well, it's time for me to kill you now." or "Any last words, you vile little creature?"

But she didn't.

Her eyes shimmered with the light of the dying embers in the hearth, finally beginning to reduce their flames to smolders. They ran across his bent body, not with intrigue, but with concern and guilt and worry.

That was Peyton. At least, the girl he'd known a few minutes earlier.

Loki wasn't sure what exactly she meant. He was able to escape unharmed. At least physically.

Yet there were so many questions that he had stirring around himself. Ones that frightened him to even think. But why was she asking? Why had she been talking to herself? Who were 'Pookie', 'Pookabear', and 'Kit-Kat'? What did she mean by, "I just wanted to play"? And why in particular had she been ready to...

He gulped.

Bite him?

It all had happened so quickly he entertain the possibility that he had fallen asleep for a while and dreamt the entire event. For he'd never experienced anything like that in his entire life. And hopefully, never again.

But it still stood firm that the true answer to Peyton's question was no, technically. So ever so carefully he shook his head no, daring to respond negatively to his assailant, praying that was the correspondence she wanted.

Peyton gave the longest sigh of relief in the history of mankind and had the strong drive to just drop down on her knees, spread out her palms, gaze up at the heavens and plead, "Thank you!"

So as a last ditch effort to relieve the disparaging term of awkward silence, she did just so. Per usual, making a scene in front of the poor houseguest.

Now on the floor, she folded her hands and applied them to her forehead, exhaling noisily through her nose. Though she just made a fool of herself-once again-all she cared about was that she didn't hurt him. She didn't hurt him. She didn't hurt him and that's all that really mattered. Of course, there were other things...

Moving her hands away from her face and taking a glance at Loki who , much to her delight, had ceased quaking, nevertheless continued to appear fearful, she rubbed her elbows bashfully, not knowing precisely what to do next.

She did know one thing. He needed to get off of the floor, it wasn't good for his legs and as he propped himself up on the surface of the back of the kitchen cabinet, it wasn't too great for his back either.

Lifting herself up off of the floor, she gave a quick scratch to her wrist before she exhaled, held out her hand to the man a couple of feet away and offered, "Do ya' want me to help you up?"

Naturally in response, Loki shrank away from the gesture, shook his head wildly, and drew backwards, keeping his eyes fixed on the direction of her hands.

Peyton lowered her arm right beside her shyly, and looked away morosely, feeling ever more guilty and shameful. She couldn't blame him. She wouldn't want to be touched by her either after whatever crazy things she may have done to him.

Her attention was drawn by Loki as her grappled the edge of the countertop to pull himself off of the ground, but crying out ,he failed miserably, falling on his side and writhing up his face and baring his teeth in agony.

She bit her lip, squinted her eyes, and winced for him. Knowing that one had to hurt.

Her eyes landed upon the coat rack by the door and without taking a second thought, rushed over and fetched it. With sounds of straining and she dragged it over, the metal rattling with the scrape of the hardwood.

She grimaced. Even the littlest of things she couldn't ever do quietly.

She made a face at the noisy coat stand. At least the stupid thing could be helpful for something.

Finally getting it behind the couch and in his proximity, gratefully he wrapped his hands about the pole, fought to pick himself up. It was agonizing to watch as he tumbled back down several times, but Peyton knew it best if she didn't assist him.

As he got himself positioned halfway, she couldn't take it any longer, seeing as he was struggling with sweat forming above his brow, about to fall again. Taking hold of his waist just as he was going to drop, she'd caught him right on time, though the slam of his sudden weight almost made her topple over.

"Ooof!"

And he desperately held on to her shoulder as his knees buckled beneath him, his legs giving way as he fought to stay upright, gravely afraid of hitting the floor again. Though he wasn't completely comfortable with her contact, he was thankful of her preventing his fall.

With one hand, he kept a stone grip on the now tottering coat rack and the other he had sprawled across her back, leaning terribly on her tiny frame. Embarrassed, he struggled to lift himself but in vain, he slumped limply over the five-foot-tall child, arm dangling helplessly.

Peyton would've laughed, but she felt that definitely couldn't and wouldn't make things any less difficult.

Without asking, she reached up with her right arm and with her thumb, attempted to pry his long, white fingers off of the metal rod with much frustration and tugging on his hand with straining noises. It was like trying to get a toddler to let go of the monkey-bars at the playground.

FINALLY, after Peyton somehow had gotten Loki to release his death grip on the beloved coat rack, he, with sheepish reluctance, allowed himself to fully heap his weight on her one side.

Peyton tried not to tumble under this new pressure. It was an awkward position and she could feel his body slipping, so, she did the only thing she could do and wrapped his other arm around her neck so as not to drop him.

They stayed like that for a few seconds, unsure of whether or not to move. Loki could feel heat rising to his cheeks and the light-brown tips of Peyton's ears darkened. Though neither of them knew why, they both felt explicitly uncomfortable, and neither of them was liking it. At all.

Wanting to dispose of the pressing tonnage on her person as well as the unpleasant situation as soon as humanly possible, wordlessly, she hoisted his body up with her left arm with her shoulder supporting his upper body, and began wobbling around the couch, grappling its edge with her free right hand so as not to falter herself.

Although his frame was exorbitantly thin, because of his height, majority of his weight was derived from his rigid bones, making the trip much more onerous than she had anticipated.

As she hobbled, Loki limped silently alongside her, she could feel the sharp ridges of his spine underneath her thin arm and his jutting ribs cutting into her bespeckled shoulder. He could feel her muscles rigorously attempting to hold him up, and feeling helpless and guilty, he held his breath, hopelessly believing that it could make his weight lighter on her little body.

On a totally different note, though she was straining to support the load with great strenuousness, she couldn't help thinking that she probably looked like a toddler toting a life-sized rag doll, limply leaning against the tinier being's person.

With a laboured moan and playful smile, Peyton muttered something that sounded like, "Man, I thought slavery had been abolished!"

Obviously unaware that Peyton had made a racial pun, he only deadpanned and felt shameful. In response, she scrunched up her lips with distaste, disappointed he didn't get the joke and that she'd most likely made him feel worse and waddled onwards in sobriety.

Reaching their destination, she untangled Loki's fingertips from her sweater which had dug themselves into her from fear of falling, making a couple of discouraging holes in the ribbed material as she unstuck them from her shoulder. Unwinding his arm from about her neck, she gently lowered him to the sofa and let him droop to the cushions, just a bit harder than she intended.

She made a crinkled face of pain for him.

Loki looked up at her with a half closed eye of agony.

She placed her hand on her lower back, and straightened her bent body. Biting her plump, bottom lip, she warped an empathic wince. "Sorry."

Loki gazed longingly at her with utmost gratitude yet a pulsing sense of confusion beaming out of his bright, bottle-green eyes.

What was wrong with this child? Why was she always apologizing?

Sure she'd lost a bit of her mind a few minutes ago and sure she had been about two seconds away from harming him and sure he felt like building a brick fortress about his person in case she tried to do it again. But. He had a feeling there was something else to blame for that. Something that Loki really, really, really, really didn't want to think about. Especially not after what had happened to him.

What Loki didn't know was that there was so much she needed to apologize for, so much she wanted to apologize for.

Peyton peered down at the injured figure seated on the long, tinsel-coloured couch, just as timid as a mouse, yet, though he was mute, she could read his glowing emerald eyes. They said 'thank you'.

She cracked a half-smile, faded with misery and briefly nodded a tired 'yeah…you're welcome—was the least I could do' thing.

Peyton rubbed her lips together and stood apart from him, listening to the shrieking winds stampeding against the foundations of the wee cottage house.

The air in the room hung thick and warm, almost cloudy, and both creatures held their breath so as not to expose their lungs to its swelter, staying still, silent, unmoving..

But the silence was harshly disbanded when Peyton gruesomely blurted out something that tore through Loki's head like a spear.

"I'm not possessed."

She had been searching for something to say to dispel the possible assumptions that he may have drawn from their little incident but it came out wrong. So very wrong. And now she would have to face the consequences of the upcoming event.

Suddenly, his body went rigid as stone with a poise of unadulterated fear, mouth slightly parted, staring straight ahead past Peyton for once, and his complexion turned to parchment, terror straining out of his eyes bugged out of his skull.

Startled, Peyton tensed up and swung her head apprehensively over her shoulder afraid to catch a glimpse at the terrifying abomination hovering over her and dripping viscous saliva on her hair from its poisonous fangs, panting its hot,putrid breath on the back of her neck.

But alas, and to her great preciptuousness, there was nothing behind her about to snatch her and consume her person one in one foul swoop, merely an empty flight of stairs, a tad bit of wall, and the single bathroom door.

No monster. But, apparently for the once-a-prince sitting on the grassy green sofa not three feet away from her, that was not the case.

Not two point five seconds later, something beyond all condensed synonyms meaning bizarre ,occurred in the livingroom, which from that moment on, Peyton had a feeling would be a habit with her strange little houseguest.

Peyton whipped herself around with the speed of a spinning top, to witness a horrendous development.

Without any warning whatsoever, Loki screamed with such a deafening shrill, that she was pretty sure that no six year old girl could have done a more impressive job, and cowered in front of some invisible beast, overcome with seizure-like quaking in a twisted heap, and buried his head in the space between the couch cushions with cries of muffled sobs.

**_"WE HAVE YOU NOW…."_**

Almost by instinct, without even having to think about it she,without delay, leapt over to his side and in a frenzy yanked his head up by his stringy hair and placed his face between her two hands, vibrating between her tiny brown fingers, snowy skin moist with endless tears, trying to shake him from his vision, and shouted hurriedly, panicked, "Pleasestopthere'snoonehere-YOU'RESAFE!"

It was like something out of a horror film. Not that she'd ever watched them of course.

He only continued to shriek like a wounded animal and Peyton tried tossing his shoulders about, yelling in his ear, and clamping her hand over his mouth to get him to stop his incessant wails but it only seemed to make things worse as he writhed against her advances and kept his eyes fastened, battling some imagined malignant foe.

Peyton had done everything she possibly could to rouse him out of his delirious state. Except one thing. She really didn't want to considering it would probably turn him even more maddened but she figured she didn't have a choice before she had a conniption and died promptly.

Taking a deep breath and pressing her lips together in distress, she somehow managed to get his head in her grasp once more, having to grit her teeth and bare her fingernails to keep him jerking away, she lifted her arm and swung it in the air and thwacked him across the face with a breakneck backhand assault.

His head snapped to the side with the power of the little black lady's slap and his eyes popped open.

(I have officially run out of large round objects describe the size of Loki's eyes so with that...)

His pale green eyes had the combined circumference and slash or surface area of softballs, soccer balls, basketballs, volleyballs, footballs (well they aren't round exactly), salad bowls, hula hoops, clocks dials, or the biggest rounded object you can think of, finally coming out of his prolonged hallucination, feeling rather heavy and wading between consciousness like the surfaces of dark waters. To see an alluring light only to plunge back into its murky depths of his trance.

He blinked as the apparitions of horror dissipated as his fuzzy vision focused in on the tan skinned human who looked positively floored, jaw extended like a hatch, bang onto the ground. Quite strangely her hand was raised haphazardly and for a moment, he wondered why.

For about three point six femtoseconds.

Then, like a MACK truck, his sense of being slammed over him as his face burned with the sting of a hundred bumblebees, the sight before his eyes dancing and glittering with beams of brilliance and darkness and he squeaked in pain. His finger shot up to his throbbing, cheek,still sticky and damp from tears, but drew it away with a hiss from its ardent smarting, staring dumbfoundedly at his rather...tiny assailant.

Meeting gazes with him, Peyton stumbled backwards, jetting away from the maniac, utterly scandalized, not because of the fact that she had just struck her new roommate, or the fact that there was a bright red handprint blinking on the side of his face in the stark contrast against the surrounding milky white skin, making it appear, with least amount of amusement, like something out of a Tom and Jerry cartoon.

No it wasn't that.

It was the fact that he had just had a deranged episode of goodness-knows-what-the-flip-that-was right in front of her face. Just when she thought she'd seen everything.

Loki's eyes paced about the quaint living area with trepidation, his chest heaving and tremoring with palpitations as he wheezed, pale face streaking with drying tears, looking like he was about serious asthma attack.

"Hey," Peyton coaxed gently yet sternfully, trying to keep him focused, "It's alright, everything's alright."

His gaze tore away from where they had last landed, the ceiling, and came across her at the sound of her voice and gave a startled mini-jump.

She exhaled but kept her eyes fixed onto his, so as not to lose his attention. She leaned forward a tad with uncertainty with equally widened eyes.

"You need my inhaler or somethin'?" was all she could say.

It took him a moment to register what she had said and to remember what exactly 'inhaler' was, but when he did, unexpectedly, he slapped his hand over his mouth and shook his head uncontrollably, with a minor gasp.

She groaned exasperatedly, clapped her fists over her forehead, and almost said something like 'C'mon my meds aren't gonna' _kill_ you boy, chill the heck out!'. But clamped her lips together instead, because she was **way **smarter than to do that and just decided to keep her big mouth shut.

At least now Peyton knew when she was around Loki never to say the word po—Well ,yeah, that one word.

And along with that, she found herself even more insanely curious. Curious like I'm-about-to-shoot-myself-if-I-don't-find-out-abou t-this-guy-quick curious.

Just like you reader.

In accordance, Peyton let out a much-needed sigh and fell peculiarly weak, draining all energies out of her body out through her feet and into the dark wooden floors, the tired, ancient planks beneath her absorbing it thirstily.

Because. She had this queer air, this awful, haunting feeling that this night was just beginning.

And that made her thirty times wearier.

Sleep sounded so good right now.

Maybe she would awaken in her captain's bed in Apartment 3C and poke her head out of her warm, toasty quilt with the red flowers and purple dragonflies on it in her room and stick her hands out of the soft materials to feel the brisk morning air of winter in New York, and breathe in a sloppy yawn to greet her Ma, would smile that same, "Morning Pooka!" in that cheerful voice that told her in two words just how much she was loved. Like the past two weeks had just been one big, bad dream.

She pushed the clouds from her mind and was left with a cold, dry space.

_Reality hurts doesn't it?_

Her nose tinkled and she refrained from lowering her head in dispiritedness like she desperately wanted to because whether she truly believed it or not, she was here. In Asgard. Trapped.

She shivered with an involuntary inhale through her nose and rubbing her goose-pimpled forearms, pivoted her head to the dwindling fire, finally falling to sleep with the rest of the world.

Peyton only sighed again as she retreated to her maroon-pigmented chair as she remembered the melting heap in ice, which dwindling as well ,in the sink, and with a daunting reluctance, recalled what she was **supposed **to be doing this **entire **time.

For the past two chapters or so. Yeah.

Loki still looked, rather non-hypothetically, bent out of shape and needed her help. Whatever help she was actually equipped to offer him of course, though she knew that he really probably didn't want it.

Yet especially now, Peyton oddly and remarkably ,in quite an indescribable way, though she really wanted to deny it, suddenly felt more keen to…become more acquainted him. She figured primarily because, though she really wasn't so sure either, after the precendented events that…possibly…they could have a lot more in common than she'd originally thought.

Loki peered across the four to five foot chasm of ground that separated their two seats with a blooming dread the crawled up from his toes and pounded furiously with the pulse in his temple.

He wanted to tell her. He wanted to warn her. They were coming. Coming to kill them both. And she had no idea. Per contra, he couldn't say anything to her. If he spoke anything at all, a single word, they would find him. He must stay silent to stay alive. To keep them safe. For as long as possible, for eventually they _will _come, and they _will _die.

He shivered as well. But not of cold.

Because it was just a matter of—when.

With a grunt, Peyton forced herself out from the comfort of her favourite chair and stood before her riven housemate and said flatly, with less enthusiasm than the first time, making things even so more awkward between the unlikely pair, "So…still snafued, huh?"

This time, much more aware of what the definition of the unfamiliar little phrase than he could've previously, Loki nodded wearily in attrition, for it was much truer that time.

Nodding in agreement, since she'd already known his response before she'd even asked, Peyton exhaled once more, the floorboards swallowing greedily more of her remaining puissance.

Because her instincts were notably more unnaturally correct than they were normally.

The night was only just beginning.

**Things are starting to get interesting.**

**Bet you've got questions now.**

**Yep. See I told you.**

**Ok guys. I'm about to get serious. Here's something you probably haven't thought about and if you have been thinking about this for a while...I'm sorry.**

**Has it come across to you that you are reading Chapter X (which is really fifteen) of One Hundred Days, and it is STILL Day One?**

**...**

**It's frightening isn't it?**

**The thing I'm wondering is...how are you guys still reading this? Are you not bored out of your mind? Are you not about to have a conniption out of suspense? Are you not bashing your head against a brick wall because, unbelievably, we still have NINETY NINE days left? **

**What I can't even begin to fathom is...how many chapters is this story going to have?**

**...**

**I'm scared.**

**What should I do? **

**Should I break it up into a Part One and Part Two? A Trilogy? A Saga? Or should I keep it as one big, muthaflippin fanfic?**

**Somebody give me some advice. PM or Review, just anything, because I seriously don't know what to do. Please. And thank you.**

**_REVIEW! (To find out what happened to Loki!)_**


	15. Chapter XI--FrozenStricken

OHD is a story of pain, tears, apples, laughter, thievery, knitting, secrets, coffee, embraces, and spasmodic dancing.

**So guys guess what? It's the end of school. Yes, yes it is. Officially (at least for me) there is only one day left. Hip-hip hooray and doodley-doo!**

**Alright so here's the deal. Since I've been getting complaints about the lack of Lokiness in my story *cough* NoVacancyMind *cough* I have done something that I hate…excessively.**

**You asked for it, you get it.**

**I have written two chapters, yes I said TWO chapters, composed almost entirely of first person viewpoint. And here's the thing. I HATE FIRST PERSON. IT IS THE MOST ANNOYING THING EVER. It is irritating to read, let alone write. All of the 'me's and 'my's and 'I's…it's just painful, okay?**

**But just for you guys I have done this. I have broken my own law of literacy.**

**I've put two chapters in one segment because I really want to speed up Day One. So in Microsoft Word its length is equivalent to thirty pages, so prepare yourself.**

**I broke it up so that if you get bored stroke tired stroke pissed off you can leave and read the second part at a later time.**

**This first one is exclusively Loki's point of view so ,NoVacancyMind and friends, enjoy(;**

**Replies:**

**Sparki111—Sparks. I love you. Just so much. I wish I knew you. We must P.M. soon! (unless you are wary of those kinds of things, then of course, it's totally cool we don't have to) Because of you and your PHENOMONAL support I will NEVER stop writing this story! I'm elated that my last chapter is your "favourite-ist"! And phhew! I'm stunned that you aren't confused! I want to spoil things SO bad! Hence these two chapters. And yeah suckaaaa plot twist! And thank you for telling me to keep it as one ginormous fanfic, I was getting worried! But anyways, it makes me ecstatic the paramount degree that someone appreciates this story and specifically someone so WONDERFUL! It's official, I don't care what anyone says, we are friends. It's done. Just deal with it.**

**MusicFox5—Why helloooooo new reviewer! I think I love you just because you mentioned Captian Crunch. And YES I shall keep it as one big muthaflippen fanfic, as you wish! And yayyyyyy someone who actually ANTICIPATES my chapters, that's stupendous! We too are also cool(:**

**NoVacancyMind— Please Miss Vacancy If you are going to read my story I advise you to be patient. I can't tell you how many hours and hours I spend writing this story alone A DAY. I haven't been writing anything else except this story for many months. I am just scared of revealing things to quickly and ,apparently, that's a bad thing. So for the past four days I've compiled this to settle your aching. And yes the "the summary hilarious dialogue" is set far in the future. Loki in my story has basically reverted to a personality wipe until he gets over his…past and stuff. For now, please deal with *my* Loki until he gets better, okay? I did this just for you. I really, really hope you will love this and please leave me a review (mentioning both chapters because their basically together. Thank you.**

**Disclaimer: Must this continue?**

**Warnings: Coconuts, tiny weapons of mass destruction, Cabbage Patch dances, head bobs, stunning realizations, and a helpful little human.**

**Chapter XI : Day One—Frozen**

-December First, Two-Thousand and Thirteen

**Loki's Point of View**

The mortal child once again asked me whether or not I was "snafued". It was a rather peculiar word, not one that I had ever heard before. Hopefully, by means of context clues, I was correct in guessing that she meant "in need of assistance".

I do not actually want her help, but I conjectured that there was really no point of disagreeing with her, in fear of angering her further and nodded 'yes'.

With my response she nodded wearily with a sigh in reply and shuffled off into the kitchen on her tip-toes per her usual.

I exhaled as she disappeared from view, finally relieved of her intimidating presence. I know my latency tires her, yet she continues suggesting some sort of unwaning interest in my well-being, and that troubles me. I know it is formidable to connote that she may have some sort of ulterior motive, I simply cannot rationalize any other basis. She is a human child for goodness sake!

"I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts, deedly-doo—" and she continued rummaging around in the kitchen.

I blinked.

She is such a strange child at that.

Though she seems to be a girl of mild nature and appears to mean well, a recent occurance spells otherwise. She , not to long ago, actually assaulted me and then ,not minutes later, is back to being quite innocent and is now singing, "Here they are standing in a rooow, bum-bum-bum" as she spins around in circles.

Quite frankly, I am frightened. Yet, I suppose I deserved it.

Nevertheless, what a horrendous encounter!

Though it happened before my very face, I am still not entirely certain that I actually experienced it. My mind is constantly deceiving me, fabricating perjurous images about me. Forevermore are the feint shadows and the eery machinations of my own retention looming in front of my eyes. For that reason, I cannot accredit my own perceptions and therefore can only speculate if what I see is real.

I am not sure of which I know to be more harrowing, whether I actually saw her go mad or whether I had just imagined it. I'm not sure which I would prefer. But I it does not matter what I prefer. Not in the slightest.

There is a tinny rustling noise coming from behind me, then a disappointed huff, so I assume Peyton is searching for something.

"Ugh, where is it?"

Apparently, she hasn't found it.

Instinctively, I flinched as she stamped by with a rather irritated scowl drawn on her face. With several thanks I saw that she was not heading for me, but the stairwell instead and grumbling something unintelligible, she ascended the creaky steps.

There is not a long wait before Peyton bounded down once again, looking appeased. Clenched in either of her tiny hands are objects, in which the sight of made me jump considerably.

Twirling across the livingroom with a delighted skip, she held in her left a strange, wedge-like weight and in her right some sort of small tool that undoubtably resembled—I gulped—Mjolnir.

"Humdeedumdeedee," she twittered as she approached.

My eyes widened. Why does it seem everytime this little human comes down from her room, she has a potentially lethal weapon?

To my great satisfaction, Peyton did not appear to have the intent of harming me with it (yet), she merely cavorted around the couch singing cheerful "lalalala"s back into the kitchen.

Giving a gargantuan sigh, I sank down and melted further into the sofa. I do not believe I can take much of this any longer. What occurred next, however, also forced me to put into question the mental stability of the person I am required to spend the remainder of the year in residence with.

Craning my neck, I observed as she set down the wedge and the miniature Mjonir down on the countertop next to rather blunt looking knife, then to my dismay, Peyton anticipatedly rubbed her hands together smiling fiendishly with her tongue sticking out of the side.

Again, for the tenth time that evening, suddenly unable to swallow properly, my throat hitched and ran dry. What exactly does she plan to do with those?

Unfortunately, I haven't learned not to ask myself questions, for it was soon answered.

With a face of utmost concentration, she meticulously placed the metal wedge into a crevice in the mound of ice (which I somehow I had forgotten about) sitting in the deep Farmer's sink. Lifting up the tool far above her head with both fists struggling to steady the top-heavy weapon, Peyton struggling to make precision, squinted at the glacier and bit her bottom lip. I gasped. She brought the mallet down on the wedge with a deafening crack, splitting the frozen stone right in two with which I, of course, shrieked at.

Apparantly, the halved block of ice was the product of which she desired, for she set down the toy-sized item of mass destruction along with the wedge, only to pick up the butter-knife, with a mendacious gleam in her dark eyes.

I knew the result could not have been pleasurable, so right before she began, I , impulsively, slapped my palms over my ears.

And good for it as well, for the girl, for moment, had the visage of pure bliss, calm and collected as she drew in a deep breath. Then, as if someone had flipped a lever, she went barbaric, hacking the lump of ice, sending shards everywhere, littering the countertops melting and forming condensed puddles on the ground.

I cringed with every chink of the knife, wondering why EVERYTHING this child does has to be a cacophony of absolute commotion, each crack sounding like the breaking of my bones.

Eventually after it seemed like years spent in a war-torn region, me dodging ice-splinter charges, Peyton put the knife down, much to my respite, canceling the awful din.

With an overjoyed squeal, the short, tan-skinned human kissed her hands, threw her arms in the air, and shouted, "Voila!"

Cackling wildly she continued, doing what seemed some sort of strange dance, putting her fists together and revolving them in circles in front of her chest, "Ahehehe! J'ai fini!"

I had not faintest idea of what she said, not only because my hands were still over my ears ,but because, once again, she spoke in a language I couldn't understand. I just hoped she had completed whatever she was doing.

With a grin of accomplishment, Peyton held up like a trophy, a roundish fist-sized piece of ice.

I could only stare. What was that for?

She, ignoring my blank response, waltzed over to the linen closet next to the bathroom, which, surprisingly, I do not recall noticing previously, and pulled out a folded white cloth and wrapped it inside. Closing the narrow door, she swayed over, holding the frozen ball with such delicacy, her steps were even more silent as her tiptoes heightened even further, eyes fixed on the white pile in her hands.

As she approached me, I , of course, took a precautionary half-scoot away from her, in case Peyton decided to strike me in the head with it.

But she didn't hit me. Probably much used to my paranoid behavior, she didn't lash out at me, merely shook her head with an amused smile.

Roving her broad, deep brown eyes about me, Peyton surveyed my body, and after my last encounter with her, I immediately drew my arms and legs together about me, as if I believed she could see straight through the heavy shroud of my cloak, feeling rather uncomfortable.

To my astonishment, Peyton gazed away from me, cleared her throat, and pressed her lips together relatively awkwardly. It was odd because, she seemed uncomfortable as well.

As I was seated, I managed to lift up my eyes from the floor and peered up at her unsurely, awaiting for whatever strange business she was going to mention next.

Standing right in front me, Peyton, clasping her hands about the cloth, unaware that she was increasingly melting the ice inside the folds, and giving a profound gulp and a nervous half-second nose-twitch, which startled me to some extent, then said significantly flatly and without much enthusiasm, "I'm going to have to ask to to—" she sighed, obviously uneasy ,as if knowing what my response would be, "—remove your coat."

My mind instantly paired this with her manic episode that happened not too long ago, and not taking a moment to consider, I gasped rather loudly and sprang to the complete opposite end of the couch, drawing my legs underneath my cloak and wrapping my arms tightly about my person.

I then winced anguishly at the piercing pain I'd just caused my sore body and cursed several times in my head at my own idiocy, only to feel to stinging blackness blanket over me. For several moments I gritted my teeth and hissed and the twinge alight flame up on my back and mouth. I couldn't see anything. They'd struck me again. I evoked, much too late, that I am not allowed to curse. Even in my head. I should've remembered…

The clouds evaporated from my mind and I was permitted to feel and see once more. There was Peyton staring at me with those large, black eyes who had, to my alarm, had taken a step backwards, mouth slightly parted, giving me the impression that she was scared.

In response I could only look away. I felt ashamed that I had frightened her.

What she mentioned afterwards though, showed that she and I shared similar thoughts. So very, very similar.

Peyton exhaled and put her hand on her shoulder and closed her eyes.

"I didn't say that to scare you I just—I need to—"

She opened her eyes and stared into mine. No doubt, recollecting herself what had occurred when she had gone mad, fumbled,"That chick you met while ago—that wasn't me I swear it's just—"

Peyton bit her bottom lip and sighed, most likely fighting for the right words.

It took me a moment to translate that "chick" possibly meant "person".

She weighed the mound in right hand and watched a couple of water droplets patter the ground, before with an insurmountable innocence whispered,

"I don't want to hurt you—I only want to help."

My eyes wandered about her as she shifted and sat down onto open space remaining on the edge of the sofa when I had moved, the gentle force causing my side of the furniture to bob slightly and her sudden presence to both startle and confuse me.

Peyton lowered her head and covered her face with her free hand. She muttered sadly, "All I want to do is help."

I uncoiled my arms from around my waist and sat up a few inches, in curiousity, to get a better glimpse of the little woman not a foot or so away from me. She was slumped over her knees, and her dark hair fanned out and the curls just touched her elbows. Measuring the distance with from the top of her head to her boots, she was roughly half my size. She was so…small.

Not looking up from the ground, she mumbled, "I saw you fall…earlier."

At first I was not aware of what she was speaking of, then I remembered the occurance of a few hours ago. The apple incident. That seemed so long ago… My eyebrows rose. She'd seen me?

She frowned, still gazing at the growing pool of water , her eyes following the drops journey from her fist to the floor.

"I saw those cuts and bruises on your back, Loki," she lifted her head and her nose ticked, again. "They're going to get infected,"

Peyton pivoted her head, and now that she was sitting alongside me, she was the one who had to look upwards, staring up at me with that little freckled face and those enormous eyes, enveloping me.

"Unless you let me help you," she finished.

I had let my head fall to meet gazes with her. Why? Why do you want to help me?

She had done more than enough, what more does she want to do with me?

My eyes snapped to the cloth in her hand, puzzled, and Peyton noticed.

She smiled, realizing the ice had totally melted, only leaving a soggy rag hanging limply in hand, still dripping.

"That was supposed to be for your back, but I guess I need a new piece." she said defeatedly yet with content smile.

I looked askance my eyes. Ice? For **my **back? For what purpose? Why?

My face darkened. I was a Frost Giant. Why would I need ice? Why would I need more of it?

Is she making fun of me?

She was smiling. Yes. It was just a reuse. She was ridiculing me…

And why shouldn't she?

Peyton's smile vanished and she cocked her with a remarkably concerned look. "What's wrong, Loki?"

I looked away from her. She didn't care. She shouldn't care. She couldn't care.

My brothers will come. They will kill me and she will watch if not ,assist. I must be foolish to have believed that anyone cared especially not a human. Especially not her.

Likely, she perceived that there was something wrong. "It will numb the pain." she said casually.

I came out of my trance, the word 'pain' catching my ears. What did she say?

Peyton looked around as if she wasn't certain I understood. Which, at the time, I did not.

"It will numb the pain," she repeated, with a level of uncertainty in her voice, "Don't…Asgardians ever do that? Put ice on stuff when it hurts?"

My eyebrows lowered and I shook my head. What sort of strange remedy was that?

I had never heard of it. Not just because I'd never seen it done but because I had never thought to try. And neither anyone else. Ever.

Ice was cold and relentless and deathly. Ice helped nothing. It was nothing. Just like I was nothing.

Peyton nodded, sensing that I was coming around. "Yeah, humans do it all the time. When you've got a fever, or a black eye, or a sprained ankle…"

Peyton stopped abruptly and added rather randomly, "My friend is a doctor."

For a moment I detected her eyes enlarge almost imperceptibly, like she'd said something she shouldn't have. Quickly, though, she composed herself.

"He's taught me lots of things," Peyton smiled somewhat reminiscently as she looked down at her hands, playing with her wet fingers. "A whole bunch of things."

I watched her very closely, perceiving things I beforehand had not deliberated.

Peyton had yet to actually hurt me and seemed to be an uncustomarily trustworthy human. It was almost fear-provoking. I have been searching and searching for reasons of why she has been so kindly to me and have found none thus far. I have only been a nuisance. A burden to her.

Even though it could presumed that she could be possibly insane, and that she was a convicted pilferer, despite these…there was something so pure about about her. It was so unusual that every once and a while, I suppose that I am still asleep. Yet to be awaken by…

**_US…._**

My heart stopped. I paid no heed to the voices, the voices that followed me everywhere, though it made me shudder and I tried to keep attention on the tiny mortal in front of me.

Peyton doesn't know. She will not know about me.

I nodded without realizing, pretended to listen, but I was really seeking to decipher what to do. They are getting closer and I can feel it. Yet I cannot speak. I cannot warn her of their return. They are haunting me all the time and the visions are becoming more vivid with the hours. Nonetheless, they fade everytime that I look at…

I looked down at her. I felt a silence. She'd stopped talking.

The girl was staring at me with a child-like perplexity, she was studying my face, trying to read my mind. I prayed she could examine my thoughts, heed my silent warnings, and take flight. To protect herself. Because **I **cannot protect her myself.

Please do not stay here.

Suddenly, she piped up, flicking back to her happy, sprightly self , and I became expectant, I felt my eyes brighten, eager that she'd interpreted my admonition.

To my dismay she said, "So will you let me help you?"

I wanted to take her and scream, "No you musn't attempt to aid me! You will die!" but I could not.

There was watery pressure behind my eyes. I couldn't allow her to. I didn't deserve her assistance. Yet, I wanted it.

I was fighting between to wishes. For Peyton to be here so that I wouldn't feel quite so…alone. And for Peyton to run. Run far away before they could find me and destroy her. Because they would.

I began to tremble, the wounds on my body marring me. My brothers, they would torment her. They **would** kill her.

Peyton was utterly oblivious to the situation. But she did see me shaking. "Loki?"

I came to attention once again, it was difficult to keep my mind focused on that little face without seeing it bloody with closed eyes. Dead.

That innocent little face spoke once more.

"Will you let me help you?" she repeated, no doubt getting accostumed to saying things more than once.

I was supposed to be guarding _her_. Caring for _her. _But, contrasted, she wanted to care for _me_. Not because she had to, but voluntarily. That was something so strange to me, so different. Yet in an extraordinary way, so wonderful.

So I couldn't. I could not let her aid me, only putting her in more danger. I could not do that. Not to someone like her.

No.

I ever so carefully shook my head 'no'.

I immediately felt guilty. And alone. And oh-so cold. Because I had rejected her.

In reply, Peyton frowned. And she frowned, and frowned, and frowned for it seemed like a millennia, intently gaping at me with abhorrence.

But only for about six seconds. I only know the precise interval of time because I was there…and because I had counted.

And then.

What she did preceeding this, this next very bizarre affair, recycled what very little something I had remaining within me…what is that word? That word. Do I still know it?

Maybe this was the wrong word. Perhaps I am wrong, as I always am. But from what I can recall, the word was hope.

Yes. Hope.

Because then, Peyton grinned. But it wasn't just any normal grin. It spanned from one side of her face to the other, revealing her slight gap between her top two front teeth, I just remembering that she was indeed just a mere sixteen-year-old woman.

So, she put her hands on knees (wetting one pant leg in the process from the soaking rag) and rose from the sofa and standing right in front of me, she crossed her arms, threw her head back and did three brief laughs,

"Ha. Ha."

For the final one, Peyton brought her head back down, leered me directly in the eye, laughed at me (which I was, not to anyone's surprise of course, still seated and appearing rather bewildered) straight in my face,

"**HA!**"

I was taken aback.

Then countered with her infamous womanly, head bounce, still smirking, shouted with her North-Eastern-American-from-the-Realm-Midguard-als o-attributed-as-a-New-York accent, " TOO BAAAD SUCKA' 'CUZ IMMA DO IT ANYWAY!"

I felt the complection of my pale skin metamorphose into a rosy pink as I blushed. And for the first time in an entire year, I did something I never did. Nor was I permitted to do. I smiled.

It can be argued that I smiled on a couple of other occasions that day.

When she gave me a glass of water. When she gave me that overflowing bowl of fresh apples. When she told me that , though I am mute, if I ever did happen to speak (which would be no time soon I pray), that she would listen.

I did. But not so greatly than I did this moment.

My eyes flitted about sheepishly, my snowy cheeks still tinged. I was embarrassed. For I was dealing with no ordinary person. Someone who didn't give any forethought when someone tried to tell her what she could and could not do. Someone who despite whatever anyone ever could say, would end up doing what she wanted.

I was embarrassed because…and I was very much aware…

That was just like Peyton.

End.

**Warnings: Overactive abuse of First Person P.O.V. ,lots and lots of ice, binocular eyes, unheard voices, a refurbished memory, and Band-Aids. Allz ofz da Band-Aids.**

**Chapter XI (part ii) : Day One—Stricken**

**-**December First, Two-Thousand and Thirteen

**Peyton's Point of View**

_"One day someone told me life was good. Then I slapped him in the face and walked away. Because life, as far as I'm concerned, is not good. Nor is it fair or kind. It doesn't come with a user's manual, depicting specific details warning what things will be like. But if it did come with one, I would have read it then marched down to life's Wal*Mart and demanded a refund/exchange because ,and you can quote me, I was not cut out for this, okay? My life is , I probably would've lost the receipt and they wouldn't take it back. So, out of spite, I would've just stolen a stereo or something instead. Because that's who I am. I am Peyton." _–A Thief

The sky had darkened from a sharp, ruddy orange to a dim violet as the sun descended quietly amongst the endless acreage of trees on the mountain, their millions of leaves thrashing and crying and whistling as the screaming winds whipped through their foliage. The forest seemed to rock with the lashes in the breeze and appeared to lean forward in on the house from every side, staring at the odd pair through the dusty windows, baring their teeth and laughing at them. The grasses in the little, barren field were dead and silent, seemed to listen intently to the happenings inside, not a single cricket chirping it's night song. With a violent blast, the blusters tossed hundreds of dried leaves into the air, encircling the whimsical abode.

"Darn it! Where ARE the anticeptic pads?!"

I snarled rustling and rummaging through my bright yellow knapsack anxiously, pulling out the most irrelevant of items you wouldn't find in your average backpack, and flinging them over my shoulder. The thing is, my backpack can hold the craziest of stuff. Observe.

-A pair of Gucci sunglasses (stolen)

-A jar of multicoloured buttons (collection)

-A spray bottle of bug spray

-A Rolex watch (stolen)

-A roll of Scotch tape

-A dinner bell

-A pair of cleaning gloves

-A broken popsicle stick (*sigh*)

-A good friend's yo-yo (I really need to give that back to Matt)

-A box of Crayola crayons with the white one missing

-A pair of tweezers

-An empty can of Arizona Tea (I swore that was full)

-A children's book on animal behavior

-A purple hula-hoop (!)

-A Barbie themed bicycle helmet(….)

-A rubber duck

-A Pokémon Gameboy cartridge—Ruby (hehehe)

-Fake deer antlers (!)

-A giant rubber band ball

-A black 'Cool Story Babe' T-shirt (!)

-A red dog leash

-A snooker ball rack (and cue stick)

-A strongly worded essay titled: Why I Hate Vegeatables

-An inflatable swimming tube

-A crowbar (for obvious reasons)

-A potted cactus

-An orange plunger (a clean one…hopefully)

-An expired Starbucks gift card

-A tire pump

-A USB computer mouse (yeah I'll totally need that on Asgard)

-Black nail polish (swagg)

-Black fedora (swagg x4)

-A TI-30XS scientific calculator (*sigh* Honors Pre-Cal)

-An emergency sewing kit

-A bag of stale marshmellows

-A box of bottle caps (collection)

-A hot water bottle

-A package of disposable razors (thank gosh)

-A torch

-Baby wipes (?)

-Hitchhiker's Guide to The Galaxy (handy)

-A box of Meow Mix

-An almost empty packet of Newports (…)

-A bag of Goldfish (score)

-A package of Ramen Noodles x5—more to be counted (bonus points)

-A suspicious tube marked in scratchy letters 'ChapStick'

-A laser pointer

-A dingle-ball *

And I knew that was only the very beginning of the array of things poking around in my backpack.

My yellow backpack was a gift from a very special friend. It can hold anything inside and still have the weight of a half-empty knapsack. You could shove a freaking fifty-inch flatscreen inside and I could still carry it on my back down a fire-escape and flee your apartment like it was nothing. The perfect thieves' tool. That's not what it was created for but, I learned to be resourceful.

There's stuff in there I haven't seen in years and still haven't found. It's named The Impossible Bag, but I just call it Posse for short. It an awesome containment unit but is a pain in the behind when you want to find something specific, hence why I'm irritated right now.

I probably have everything but antiseptic pads.

I gave a low, rolling grumble in the back of my throat, so dangerous it would put any tiger to shame.

Giving my pack a harsh kick, causing it to tumble in a muffled jingle, further scattering my stuff, I , grappling what I **could **find—some Curad gauze and wrap, Band-Aids, and another white towel—, stamped down the old, creaky stairs from my room, not bothering to hold on to the banister.

When I descended , I approached my 'patient' and set down my medical supplies on the nightstand beside the couch, and turned the knob on the oil lamp a little brighter to fill my workspace with light. The last thing I need to do is screw up.

Offering a gentle and kind smile, I said, "You ready?"

I could almost hear his heart thumping , as, giving a few uncontrollable trembles, his clear-green eyes dancing apprehensively about my face, having, in my absence reacquired his precious couch arm bolster, clenching it tightly, Loki swallowed and did a brief, sullen nod.

Sensing his fear and not wanting him to be anxious, I sat down next to him and assured him with a soft smile, looking in his shaking emerald eyes, "Imma' be careful, 'aight?"

Taking a shaky breath, Loki gave another nod, with seemingly a bit more conviction this time.

I knew he was scared. It was like watching a small child about to get his first vaccine shot. And like an actual mother sitting in the surgery with a kid, I felt sorry for him, knowing there would be pain but also knowing it would be better for him in the end.

With thin, light brown fingers I grappled the edge of his dark-gray medieval cloak and drew it off of him, trying my best to remove it with him having to contort as little as possible.

Draping over the back of the velvety couch, I carefully with prying hands, peeled off sweater by sweater, him biting the inside of his cheek, twisting his face in pain, with each layer hurting him more and more.

It was terrible to watch.

The second 'shirt', I with closer inspection (and by closer inspection I mean right off the bat) noticed it was littered with carroty splotches on the bleached fabric, knowing that meant new open wounds hiding underneath.

My stomach dropped as I gulped harshly, afraid to see more.

Pulling off the white sweater, my eyes widened.

The two previous layers of white cotton were mostly clean, serving as buffer covering like they'd just been put on him before he arrived at the cottage, but the final one…The material was a deep royal purple made of the strongest, thickest material I'd **ever **seen in my life, completely covered in dark brown stains of pools of dried blood, stiffened from the conglomerated fluid.

Surprisingly, I found my own hands beginning to tremble. Every part of my mind was telling me to go, "Uh…you know what, I think I'll pass as playin' Nurse today." But I had to, I had to find out what had been done, besides he could get ill or even die. Which the very thought of made me momentarily dizzy.

Taking extra regards to be assiduous, looking away, I had to literally pare the fabric from Loki's skin, the materials fused to his tissue by all of the blood in his gaping sinew, peeling off hemic scab, leaving grisly meres of crimson running through his raw flesh, often causing him bury his face into his pillow and to cry out in pain.

Every time he did, however, I winced as I felt water rush behind my eyes, hating that I was causing him to suffer.

Finally rolling up the grungy sweater up to the nape of his neck, still refusing to take even the single glace at his back, I managed to uncover his shoulders and strip it off of his arms. Wrinkling my face in disgust, striving to touch the clothing as little as possible, plopped the nasty thing in a tired pile on top of the rest of the laundry, almost angry at the shirt itself.

Closing my eyes and saying a silent prayer, I cracked one of my eyes open, and was literally taken aback and had to cover my mouth and swallow to keep from gagging. "Holy crap—" and I had to grapple the nightstand to keep from stumbling.

Loki clamped his eyes shut,no doubt not wanting to even envision what she was seeing.

I mangled my face, put my hand to my stomach, and puffed out my cheeks with air, and whipped my head away in revulsion.

For some reason,seeing animal blood was perfectly cool, but seeing human blood, well in this case, Asgardian blood and so much of it, well…I was just that that I was in close proximity to a sink because, this was worse than I'd ever imagined.

I exhaled and took another glimpse at the corpse, thinking maybe it would appear less daunting if I looked at it again.

"Woy…" I moaned, covering my eyes with my hand and peeking through my fingers. Nope. I was wrong. It was no better the second time than the first.

Obviously emaciated, his spine was notoriously was jutting out, notoriously defined all the way down the middle, each notch of the bone visible and identifiable. Proving quite thoroughly, that I had been correct about his not being fed for and extensive period of time.

Loki's skin was no longer white, a blank canvas, but as if an irritable toddler had thrown a tantrum and scrawled all over his bad with a red and purple crayon. His figure was utterly mangled, lacquered with violet-greenish blots of horrendous bruises, bloated and swollen, dark jagged scars slashed his skin like hundred of inky lightning bolts and hashtags. Slots of old wounds festered and bulged while seemingly fresh gashes that seeped and trickled scarlet, ran like flowing rivers and great canyons across his back.

Staring at the horrific sight, I sat there beside the battered form unsure of what to say, my mouth was slightly apart, my mind whirring to try to comprehend a possible **excuse **for this, my brain hurt trying to rationalize—why?

There was no sound in the room except the wind and the wheezes of Loki's laboured breathing through broken lungs.

I only sat there. What? What could I say?

Before me was a man utterly destroyed not only physically but mentally, I knew nothing of how or why all of this happened, and somehow Loki believed that he couldn't tell me.

What could I say?

Again, all words had left me and I could only think of one thing. Something I'd wanted to say since the moment I'd taken away that dreadful silver muzzle away from his face, and met with those scared, glowing green eyes of his.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

**Loki's Point of View**

I was stooped over, my head hanging disgracefully, my raven hair spanning down by the sides of my face. My fingers bore inside of my own skeletal fists not only in pain, but in penitency. I felt so confused and hurt and ashamed, sitting on a stranger's couch, half-undressed in front of a human girl, feeling everything but comfortable. A child desired to help me, but I didn't want it. Not out of pride, albeit the complete contrast.

I do not deserve her assistance. As usual, I am only an inconvenience to everyone.

I just kept my head bowed, I couldn't bring myself to look up. I closed my lids, barring the way for tears. Maybe she would change her mind and leave me to wallow in my own agony and pity. That would be the reasonable thing for her to do.

But then I contemplated. Is Peyton reasonable?

"I'm sorry," I heard.

Normally, I would have just continued staring at the floor, but I caught something infinitesimal roll off the edge of Peyton's voice, that snagged my attention.

Unwillfully, I lifted my head, slowly turned it, and peered over my shoulder at the tiny person who met my gaze with those great sparkling eyes of hers, catching the glow of the oil-lamp, so tranquil they could tame the fiercest of dragons. I would have twisted back around again, but Peyton refused to break eye contact for several moments.

Not taking into account the reprehensible sight of my fractured back or my bare chest, drilling straight into my eyes, with a look almost sacred, Peyton shook her head, a couple of her dark curls whisking their spirals on her neck.

"I'm…sorry,"she said so slowly with so much conviction, that I almost felt pensive, as if the voice came from very far away only to whisper to me.

Unexpectedly, her nose tinkled, so briefly, I wondered if I had actually seen it, I was still fairly absent-minded. Her tone had been so sorrowful and another word that also, with time, I had forgotten—compassionate—that it nearly seemed as if she could feel my pain, my guilt, my burning, my emptiness.

But I know she just couldn't.

And also could she be apologizing? She did nothing. There was no sense in it.

I deserved everything that happened to me. Everything.

She rose up from the couch, and I grew frightened momentarily, almost startled that she had left. I relaxed once again when I realized Peyton was only walking around behind the sofa so that I wouldn't have to turn as she began her work.

It was peculiar that she was thoughtful even in the most trivial of things.

Retreiving a new cut shard of ice (because the other one melted several minutes before) Peyton advised gently, "This is cold, okay?"

There was no need for this warning, as it was the most obvious of statements, but I knew that she was just needed an excuse to say something to me, as she often did, to shatter the discomfitedness.

I do not get cold, in any case, not very easily.

Apparently, it still hadn't occurred to Peyton what I was. At least not yet.

**Peyton's Point of View**

Biting my tongue, I tried my best to ignore how much Loki shuddered when I initially touched him, feeling a murky cave in my heart crumble. I knew that that he wasn't fond of personal contact, a little brush of the hand was frightening. That constant fear of being hurt,. That paranoia. I know what that's like. I of all people know exactly what that's like...

Taking another cleansing breath and trying desperately not to notice the unstoppable flow of blood oozing from his wounds and how loudly he was panting , I began applying firm but gentle pressure with the ice compress, working at his bony shoulders first, deliberately avoiding the currents of red.

Whenever the ice melted, I would drift away from him and scoot over to the sink and rinse out the dirty cloth, wringing out the stains of blood and collected dirt, leaving an increasingly grimy pool of orange water in the bowl. Cutting out another piece of ice, as least noisily as possible, I'd wrap it inside the discoloured rag and begin again, not stopping to take any breaks in between.

Sometime ago I had felt that his pallid skin was noticably cool to some extent, I think before I had even applied the ice. I wondered if it was because he had taken off his outergarments and gotten cold or perhaps because the fire was dying down in the hearth. But as I was scwinging the congealed blood out from underneath my over-grown fingernails during one of my many ice-supply pitstops, it finally occured to me why my hands were becoming so numb while he didn't really seem to be affected by it. It was because Loki was a…

Frost Giant.

Oh dear.

Crapola.

Imbecile.

How could I have forgotten?!

MY WORD.

I would've done a literal facepalm but I would've ended up slapping myself in the face with a bloody dishtowel.

Ugh! No WONDER he looked at me like I was crazy when I told him that I was going to put ice on his back. He must've thought I was nuts!

I felt stupid now. So very stupid endeavoring to give him treatment by rubbing freaking ice-of which he probably detested- on his skin, like I'm TRYING belittle him. Man, I even entertained the idea of stopping and apologizing, saying that this whole time I hadn't remembered he was a...Jotun.

I felt like I was offending him.

Gosh, why am I so ignorant...

But I supposed it best to keep my mouth shut. I might as well finish what I start.

As I began I realized his frame was rigid and if he didn't loosen up, the treatment would be pointless.

Saying "Chill out,Loki" though would have also been pointless, so I tried something else.

And so I did something stupid. As usual.

I started humming.

Yes, humming, and the weirdest song too.

Baby It's Cold Outside.

I don't know why I did it. I suppose the ice was cold, I was getting pretty cold too. If he was becoming annoyed, he couldn't really have told me to shut up. So I just kept humming the tune softly to myself, hoping I wasn't being bothersome.

At first he tensed up even more, made uneasy by the new sound, interrupting the prolonged silence, but eventually, around the third verse, the lull of the gentle melody actually made him relax. I was feeling pretty confident and it sort of distracted me from the fact that I was cleaning the injuries of a tormented victim.

For once, something I was doing was working.

**Loki's Point of View**

It was all quite awkward, allowing a human girl to treat me, and such a young one at that.

Although I could sense that she too found the situation unnerving, I could tell that she was making an effort to be gentle.

Initially I was very tense, locking my shape into position, afraid of motion, thinking that if I moved even in the remotest, her hand would slip and she would end up hurting me instead. Over time however, that never happened, only if the damp cloth managed to brush a sensitive area.

Even after spending many months on Jotunh—well, my place of birth—it was an outlandish idea that the ice could remedy someone. Someone like me. The frigid chill of the compress didn't bother me of course. Just her.

"Hmm-humm hm-hmmmmm...mm-humm hm-hmmmmm..."

What is she doing?

Is she humming?

I knit my eyebrows. Indeed she was.

At first I was disturbed, finding it a bit odd at her doing so, then, in it's due course, I became almost entranced by it, for though I didn't know the song , it had a rather soothing tune.

**Peyton's Point of View**

Though his white flesh was gaunt and thin, I could feel hints of strong muscles somewhere underneath of it, eroded and withered away by starvation.

Starvation. That word makes me so sick.

My eyes darkened and I gritted my teeth behind closed lips. None of this was right. None of it.

I was no forensic scientist but I could almost read his injuries. From the patterns and clusters of the wounds told the stories of his torment. The several long stripes suggested lashes from whips. The black semi-circular burns conveyed possible singing from branding irons. There were also quick, cuspate slits, clean and straight proposed cuts from something sharp and metallic. I could almost visualize the glint of the knife in front of a dastardly Cheshire smile. It made my heart jump.

Something else though too I noted. It was all very strange actually. There were hundreds of pin-like nicks scattered in trails by the sides of his ears, neck, and ending near his shoulders. I hadn't come across them at first until I'd pushed away a bit of his hair (which freaked me out for a split second initially). Anybody else wouldn't have noticed it. But you see…I'm different.

My eyes have been…altered you see.

The lenses have been abnormally disfigured into a convex orientation. Grains of rice look like canoes, ants look like monsters, and a bird in a tree fifty feet away appeared as if I could reach out and snatch it.

Luckily, I am capable of adjusting this feature of mine and use it to my advantage instead of running into things that aren't really in my proximity to focusing and magnifying my vision like…I would say…a pair of binoculars. It's quite cool actually but also rather annoying. I will not bother you with telling you how or why this is so. There's another chapter for that so…

Ahhem.

Anyways.

I digress.

The microscopic incisions, upon 'zooming' in, looked like…and I blinked several times in a row, attempting to think of something else they could've resembled, but I couldn't. My mind twisted and my stomach wretched….myriads and myriads of tiny little bite marks.

I covered my mouth again. I couldn't get the image of Loki being chained and having something—maybe many,many somethings—skittering down his face—eating him. I purged and the croak of the gagging startled Loki and I could tell the way his shoulders dropped he knew that I had discovered something horrendous.

I shook my head, utterly mortified and I found myself rubbing his skin harder unintentionally, and felt him cringe beneath my hands.

"Sorry," I whispered ghostly, having been so shocked I wasn't paying attention to the force of my hand placement.

Massaging his work skin gently in a circular motion, deadening my nerves from the numbing cold of the endless ice, I just wished my question would get answered. Who? Who did this to him?

Seething, I gritted and bared my teeth in rage because only one word kept coming back and coming back and coming back. Odin.

I knew Odin had always resented his adoptive son, favororing Thor over Loki. But still, was he capable of delivering torture?.

What fathers will do...

When I met Odin earlier today I was upset. And I mean, who wouldn't have been after being put on house arrest? But now I am enraged for a completely different reason.

Wasn't he aware of his condition?

I had never become acquainted with the Queen—Friggen? Frigga? Something like that—surely she would've objected. In the movie she seemed like the more sensible one. Obviously.

I'm sure she actually cares. She would've gotten involved somehow and put a stop to this.

I ceased rubbing him for a moment as I thought.

This must have been a secret then. One big secret.

I wiped gently at his neck with my finger inside the cloth, brushing the scars of the obscene bitemarks, my lips drawn down at the corners, unable to stop frowning.

I will find out who did this. I will find them.

Maybe old Odie didn't do it. At least not personally. He must have gotten someone else to do his bidding. But who? I mean, I know no one really liked the guy, but who would have done something so...inhumane?

I pre-cut a few chunks of ice and put them in a bowl so I wouldn't have to keep going to the sink and making racket. Swishing around the rag in the clean water and selecting a new piece of ice, I dabbed softly at a rather deep stripe, cleaning the debris that had gathered around it. Along with being bloody, his back was also quite dirty as if he had been deliberately kept from bathing, and trust me, I could tell because, as well as having enriched vision, I've got a pretty keen sense of smell too, which in this case was a disadvantage.

I even found myself picking away tiny pieces of rock and gravel that were embedded in some places, sticking to him like burrs.

I thought about maybe putting some alcohol on the cloth, killing two birds with one stone, and disinfecting some of the more sensitive injuries. But I figured I was torturing the poor man well enough already and didn't need to feel the searing pain of the chemicals.

Not to say that probably hasn't happened to him either,but I don't want to cause him anymore pain.

No more pain.

**Loki's Point of View**

For another twenty minutes or so Peyton continued with the ice remedy. Initially, I was so sore I considered asking her to stop, non-verbally of course, but as time went on; I gradually began to relax and contorted a bit for her to gain access to my sides and opened up so that she contact my chest. When the pieces of ice melted, she would go over to sink, cut out another segment and advanced with the treatment. Though I could tell she was becoming weary, she refused to take a rest.

As she got close to me, I noticed that Peyton smelled faintly fresh like that of ginger and I her hair often swept my shoulders or my arms, it was the amiable aroma of cinnamon. It was queer yet in novel way, rather inviting.

I am not accustomed to so much physical contact, especially not from a human. And particularly NEVER from a…woman. Despite the ice and the dolorous situation, I felt my face go strangely warm and tingly. Was that normal?

She's stopped.

I felt an absence as Peyton stepped away from me.

I revolved my head and glanced at her.

Peyton was staring at me with fear shaking in her eyes.

What was the matter? Was she finished?

**Peyton's Point of View**

I figured it out.

I think I know who did it.

I can't believe it hadn't crossed my mind before, but I now know.

I feel disappointed that I had presumed that Odin was the one. But now I know I was wrong.

Before this time it hadn't occurred to me, and now I wish I wasn't aware. I wish I could forget.

I pray I'm wrong. I really do.

Pain. It's the word that triggered the memory.

Such a terrifying realization.

I had never put much importance to this scene, but now…I think it's the key to everything.

Loki craned his neck and looked at me, obviously wondering why I stopped.

It took a period for me to grasp that, in this case, in this universe, what happened in the movie The Avengers…was real. I had only seen it a handful of times, maybe once or twice. But it was enough.

I began to stagger as I summoned to mind the words I had heard several times over but never gave so much as a second thought as it panged me now,

_"You know what we will do if we __**don't **__get the tesseract…you think you know pain…when we are through with you, you will __**beg **__for something as sweet as PAIN."_

Every word from the quote pierced me like thorns as I gasped aloud.

The Chitauri.

Anger welled up inside my veins like mortar. My pigment of my vision deepened as eyes turned as dark as coal. Unknowingly, I began breathing briskly, the tips of my fingers begging to quake.

Loki riveted his luminous, jade eyes at me, staring questionably at me, beginning to appear fearful, no doubt frightened of another attack of mine.

"I...I'm sorry." Coming out of my faze, I stuttered, shaking my head feeling like I was in some sort of dream state. My epiphany was taking more time to settle in than I had intended.

I'm really sorry.

I peered at the purple scars ensconced around his lips. They must've done that too.

I sniffed.

My nose tinkled.

No.

No no.

No no no.

I shook my head unfathomably slow, not wanting to think about the horrendous images of the wicked, yellow-snaggled toothed grins of the hideous beasts laughing at the work of their hands. What a wonderfully atrocious job they had done.

I wanted to ask Loki. I wanted to ask him to confirm or deny my claim. But I knew he would be too afraid to. And that it in itself made it perfectly clear that I was right. It was the Chitauri.

My brain was reeling, thrown into hyper drive endeavoring to fathom why they would have done that. Weren't they supposed to be allies? Upon realizing that Loki was related to their race, shouldn't they have treated him like family?

Suddenly I had the powerful urge to kill something.

So instead of doing something stupid and decking an inquisitive Loki in the face, I scooted backwards a couple of feet and slammed my fist on the countertop, making him jump and causing the water pitcher and assorted glassware to rattle with a medley of clinks.

My eyes screwed shut and my teeth clenched, my nose flared, my lips curled under and, remarkably, a "Khhhhhh" sound came out of my mouth and Loki once again was bug-eyed, lip dropped open, shocked.

I had hissed. Darn it. Another involuntary habit I needed to learn to stop doing in front of people.

I panted harshly in pure mania, sporadically having this murderous feeling come over me, unable to control my shaking. Taking deep breaths and exhaling through my mouth Loki was gaping at me as if I were about to go through another one of my ideals again. Which I think is beneficial to mention, that I probably would've had I not calmed down.

All I said to excuse myself was, "So..." a bit embarrassedly, "ready for the second step?"

Loki rotated his head slightly to the left, gazing at me with widened eyes,surprised and probably still quite unnerved by the random animalistic hiss like 'what second step?'

Not bothering to answer his unspoken question, I swept in the kitchen, gathering primarily the bowl with the crushed ice and dumping the remains I breathed a sigh of relief, considerably pleased to not have to touch the frozen materials any longer.

Running the tap water, which though I had assumed was unsafe to drink believed it would be fine for this need, I streamed warm water into the bowl, and snapping open the salt shaker nearby, poured a good amount of its contents into the bowl and mixed it with my hand.

Bringing the concoction over to the nightstand, I dipping the cloth in it, wrung the excess out, keeping most of the water in.

"This will heal your aches. The salt may sting a little though."

As I approached his body, he drew away, squeezing the couch cushion to his chest, his bottle-green eyes begging me not to.

I pinched my lips together, cursing profusely in my head for even mentioning that it could sting and promised sweetly, "It won't hurt too much."

His eyes still danced warily about my face with a gulp, nevertheless unsure, looking hesitantly at the dripping rag.

Wrinkling my face and looking up at the ceiling, I pondered for a moment before I came up with an idea.

I set the hot cloth on the feverish scar on my left wrist to prove that the mixture was indeed harmless. Undeniably, it did twinge but I tried my hardest not to let it show on my face.

Loki searched concentratedly at my face for any possible signs of discomfort, then at once vaguely appeased, warily settled himself and contorted around to expose his back once again.

Exhaling, glad that my plan had succeeded, I applied the warm compress to his back. He hissed in pain.

I winced. "Sorry."

Here go again.

(this is almost over guys I promise)

**Third Person Point of View (hooray!)**

For another few minutes, Peyton applied the salt water to his injuries, sealing the skin with the rejuvanant mixture, swiping off whatever remaining blood survived the first session of cleaning, pressing his bruises tenderly and patting the deeper cuts with utmost care. She couldn't keep her mind off of her new theory. She didn't care what he did, no one deserved this.

Loki positioned as motionless as a statue, biting his lower lip so hard it bled from the agonizing smarting the salt was raging in the open rakes of not only his back but his sides and chest. He often squeaked aloud when pressed in a delicate area, and dug his fingernails into security blanket stroke arm rest pillow, letting his tears absorb into the soft velvet material. He knew that he probably appeared rather ridiculous holding onto the undersized cushion for consolence, but the silky fibers of the upholstery and possibly the mellifluous tune of Peyton's humming seemed to be the only things to bring him comfort.

Loki suddenly came to attention as he witnessed Peyton unscrewing the cap to a fat white jar labeled 'Palmer's' and scooping out some the strange contents with her fingers.

Peyton caught the confused look she was getting and with a sheepish smile commented, "Cocoa butter."

He only stared more.

She added, "It's really a black people thing, but I think it'll make the scars fade away faster."

As she rubbed the grease in her hands to get it to melt in her palms, she continued "I use it on my wrists sometimes," and tapping her cheek, "and sometimes on my face. It's oily, but it's good for you and it smells pretty good too."

Carefully smearing the oleaginous substance on his back and his stomach and chest, Loki realized she was right about it feeling oily but it did smell very nice, almost balmy.

Finishing things up with the plastering of about a hundred Band-Aids on his back..

( in which an incident occurred where Peyton had the brilliant idea to give Loki one of the bandages to play with since he seemed curious as to what they were and instead he ended up taping over right his eye and she had to quickly come to his rescue)

…and wrapping his entire upper body in Curad gauze…

(where Peyton made the mistake of making the comment that he looked like a mummy, in which Loki flipped out considering he'd just finished reading a book about Ancient Egypt and the horrific techniques they used before binding them forever in a mystic tomb, Peyton had to go through many,many measures to take back her observation and to calm him down)

…Peyton dropped down on an empty portion of the couch in a distasteful heap and to her surprise, Loki slumped drastically as well.

"There." Peyton exhaled wearily, but after their little run-ins with the Band-Aids and medical gauze was once again in cheerful spirits, "Now, I really am done."

Plopping the tired rag into the lukewarm bowl of fluid, she gave him a weak smile as he craned his neck to speculate the damage.

"I couldn't have made it too much worse, I don't think." she joked, watching as Loki surveyed his own body.

Loki's back and chest felt significantly better then. He wanted to thank her but couldn't bring himself to do it. He would have expressed his appreciation if it wasn't for…his punishment.

Giving him water was one thing, giving him food was another…But giving him prolonged physical treatment…He was a stranger. Probably the strangest stranger Peyton had ever met stroke would ever meet. Her kindness made no sense. He wondered if it were possible for a child as young as her could go mad.

Loki examined her closely in perplexity, taking the tiny stature of the stout woman into his eyes, waiting for her to giggle and say that it was really lethal toxins she'd supplied into his bloodstream. Yet, that statement never came and he felt astonishingly complacent.

_Thank you._

Peyton nodded benignly, reading the gratitude in his lustrous, jade eyes.

_You're welcome, don't mention it. Really, I know you don't want to._

She gave a smug look at her own little joke as she emptied out the bowl into the sink for the final time but straight away, her curt smile began to fade as she was reminded of the premise she'd come across.

"Hey, Loki?"

Said demigod looked up startled from his lap, as Peyton noticed with very much amusement, from fiddling with another sticky Band-Aid.

"I know…what happened?"

He dropped the bandage. _What?_

Peyton set the salt-encrusted bowl inside the sink to rinse later and shuffled through to kitchen and to the couch not a few feet away. He scooted over as she squeezed herself beside him, taking up more room than she intended and stared up at him. Concern radiated from her dusky eyes and placed both of her hands loosely in her lap.

"I found out who did this to you."

Loki's face drew a blank, feeling dread fill his entire being, hoping that was all she would say.

But as usual, whenever there is a relatively calm situation, Peyton has to ruin it somehow.

"I have the notion that maybe the Chi—"

And "Chi" was all Peyton had time to say before Loki went AWOL.

Attacking her, he clapped his hand over her mouth with a squeal of horror, thrusting his other arm across her chest to secure her to the couch.

Peyton though was not one to be silenced nor was one to be ambushed.

Fully alarmed, she bellowed in terror writhing her neck and body to free herself from Loki's grasp, eyes enlarged to their maximum. Mortified, fear of her coming free and stroke or harming him only made him fight harder to fasten his hand about her mouth, now strapping her face to his chest so her screams couldn't be heard. She was not vallicating however and put up a struggle, yelling in high pitches while her lips were barred. Loki knew she was suffocating but was terrified of releasing Peyton for the basic reason of being hurt. Tossing herself about like a rag doll in a final attempt to break out she reached out and stabbed manically with her claws into his arms until, in a frenzy, he loosened them and she leapt forth, scrabbling to her feet.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" she hollered at the trembling figure who'd thrown his hands over his face feebly in defense. "DON'T EVER TOUCH ME!"

There were assorted whimpers as Loki cowered, waiting for Peyton to beat him savagely with something nearby.

Her chest heaving awfully she shouted ultimately enfuriated, "So WHAT if I say—"

And Loki delved into the middle of the sofa piling all of the cushions on top of him, covering his ears and crying out.

Peyton jumped backwards and gasped as she witnessed him sob silently from underneath tower of the disheveled pillows.

Getting up from the floor she called out softly, "Loki?"

A muffled whine was her response as Peyton cautiously drew near, uncovering his head from underneath one of the many pillows.

As it tumbled to the floor, revealed was her guardian curled up into a tight wad, tears streaming his cheeks as his arms were wound about his face.

Peyton was now aware that the person she was to call roommate had been damaged rather ruthlessly, left with the emotional stability of a toddler.

So as one would do to a distressed child, Peyton gently touched the cool skin of his arm, bringing it down from in front of his eyes. Thinking she was going to strike him, he pulled away his arm, lifting up one of the dilapidated cushions in front of him.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, once again taking the pillow from him so she could see him, "I really am."

Loki sniffled and swiped his eyes with the back of his hand, swallowing sharply.

"I'm not going to hurt you, you just startled me okay?"

Again having attained his favorite arm bolster he held it limply, appearing quite pitiful, his panting settled as he stared uncertainly.

Peyton snickered to herself, shaking her head at the deplorable sight, helping to fix the "You know if you were anyone else I probably would've killed you?"

Rectifying himself, his bright eyes fell upon his arm that had begun to bleed when Peyton had scraped it with her fingernail.

Pouting Peyton picked up the Band-Aid that Loki had been occupying himself off of the floor. It had landed face-up so it the pad was still sterile. Plastering it on the cut, she wagged her finger advising, "Don't mess with it okay?"

He nodded somewhat.

"And I promise I won't say—"

He flinched.

"—Their name. Your secret is safe with me."

Loki gazed at her with awe.

Peyton just added 'Chitauri' to Things Not to Say Around Loki list, and stuffed the final comforter back into its rightful place on the couch.

Slumping down next to him, Peyton rested her head backwards and moaned cheerlessly, "Well I don't know about you," and she swiveled her head, mussing her hair on the upholstery, looking expectantly up at Loki, him returning the look, "but I'm hungry."

He of course didn't complain but in reality, he too was quite famished.

Peyton rested her chin in her palms, wondering what they could possibly eat. Apples were the only thing they had that was edible. She hadn't planned on still being in Asgard so she hadn't bothered to find anymore food. There was some bread and goat cheese left, she pondered, but she really wanted something warm. Timely, Peyton's stomach fussed, and she put her hands to her belly to silence it. What she really wanted was some casserole…or even some soup.

Peyton sat up straight, stiffened by a new idea. A click as a light bulb somewhere sparked alight.

Loki watched in curiosity a mischievous smile snaked across Peyton lips as she, at a snail's pace turned to meet him eye to eye.

"Have you ever had Ramen Noodles, Loki?"

Loki's eyes snapped wide, immediately anxious about whatever half-baked scheme she had proposed for them next. _What?_

**See.**

**See what I did there?**

**Plot twists. Loads of 'em. **

**Like a boss.**

**Congratulations, you made it to the end of the chapter(s). Without killing yourself.**

**Please review (about both parts please)…and if I get good feedback…maybe I'll do P.O.V. again.**

**Hmm…soup does actually sound nice right now. Hey ,Peyton, can I uh…"No."**

**_REVIEW! (To see what's fo' dinna')_**


	16. Chapter XII--Ramen Noodles

OHD is a story of pain, tears, apples, laughter, thievery, knitting, secrets, coffee, embraces, and spasmodic dancing.

**Hello Ingamarians! I have a wacky update schedule now that it's summer and I actually have LESS time to update. Moving. And a mother that doesn't know I'm writing and other threats. So yeah.**

**Replies:**

**MusicFox5—Yes and all of it's noodlyness. And yes Peyton would put Thor and Odin in timeout and…would probably give them a darn good spanking. Speaking of spanking, this chapter should have you crying. With tears of laughter.**

**NoVacancyMind—Apology accepted. Sorry for giving you a hard time. I suppose…I sort of felt offended. (For no good reason.) The thing is that I only have two regular reviewers including you (now MusicFox5 makes three and I'm thrilled). I feel like if you started not to like it, I would die. So I felt terrible and a horrible writer and all that whangdoodle that I destroy my esteem with. But I'm so glad that you weren't dissatisfied and that I was over-reacting. And I am ELATED that you loved that last chapter, it was practically dedicated to you. Yes, ah, Loki's vocabulary, it's…wonderful. I would say something else but, it wouldn't exactly be one hundred percent appropriate(; And yes. Peyton is just that kind of person that will help you ESPECIALLY if you don't want it. I hope you enjoy this chapter, my friend, it should have you doing somersaults.**

**Anon (AKA MegaUltraBraniacLady)—How. How did you do that. How in the nine realms did you put those two together and find the hidden plotloop? SHHHHHH! You musn't tell anyone! You crazy genius you musn't give anybody any ideas or it'll ruin the suspense! YOU CANTZ BE TEW SMARTZ OR ELSE YOU CANTZ READZ! I'm just kidding, but I'm still amazed. Like stunned. I wasn't ready for anyone to figure that out yet, so I'm going to have to duct tape your mouth until further notice. *approaches you with ducttape* I'm sorry.**

**Disclaimer: Only Peyton and the Ramen Noodles are mine.**

**Warnings: Wooden spoons, cannibalism, blankets, disturbing bathing habits, spoilers, (and because I'm black) Tyler Perry references, and of course—Ramen noodles.**

**Chapter XII :Day One (last one I promise) – Ramen Noodles**

-December First, Two-Thousand and Thirteen

The winds mercilessly grated through the sleeping forest, awakening its slumbering creatures, guaranteeing another restless night for them all. Sitting in the center of the dense woodland, was a little cottage house, with the dim glow of an oil lamp escaping through the windows. In one small room, which made up the entire home, were two discrete individuals. One was tall and lean and quiet and very shy, the adult. One was short and sprightly and loud and very kind, the child.

Under the rule of wise king Odin, they were sentenced to live together. As it's only been a few hours since they initially met, they've already had quite an interesting time. Now though it being oh so late in the evening, they are faced with a critical problem. What they are to eat.

"I'm guessing that's a no then, huh?" sniggered the young human girl named Peyton, grunting as she rose from the dark olive settee in the middle of the living room.

Loki, the guardian of the aforementioned child, followed the little woman with his bright green eyes with perplexity as she padded silently into the kitchen on her tip toes, rectifying himself and feeling his spongy material of his new layers of cloth on his body, getting his fingers caught in the netting of the gauze.

Peyton, not wasting any time, went underneath the sink and tugged out a little cast iron pot and ran some water into it from the sink, whistling a jazzy tune.

Loki sat back into the sofa and exhaled, relaxing his aching muscles and his stiffened bones. The pain ,though had it had dulled more than it had an hour ago, he was astounded how rapidly the Midgaurdian ice remedy had begun to perform. Feeling much better, all he needed now was some sleep. But just the thought of not being awake made his heart race, knowing that being at rest was the most appropriate opportunity to be attacked.—He swallowed.—Or killed.

Or not even that, the hallucinations.

But he tried not to think about that. Thinking was not something he wanted to do.

There was a brief flicking noise as Peyton struck a match alight, tossed it into the wood hatch underneath the stove and placed the vessel of water on the burner to boil.

"Hehe, let's make some gruhhhhhhb, dude!" she bellowed in a surprisingly husky voice that sounded much like some baked surfer dude from the west coast, pumped her fists promptly, and headed for the stairs—no the correct word would be 'swaggered' for the stairs— again to retrieve something else from her room.

Loki, caught by alarm by the peculiar voice, cracked a half-smile at the strange little girl. He couldn't hope to believe that he will ever be able to predict her actions.

Though he was tremendously tired, he was also awfully famished. He conjectured that eating all of those apples earlier had only made him hungrier, though the idea of consuming some strange Earth food called 'Raw-man noodles' didn't sound like the most appetizing dish in the world and just the word made his stomach turn.

A few minutes later, "Oh yeah, jackpot babyyyyy!" He heard emanating from the upper level, as Peyton fumbled down the steps.

Laden down with several bright orange packages in her arms, with an elated grin stretched across her face, "We have fourteen! Count 'EM FOURTEEN BAGS OF DELICIOUS SUSTENANCE, LOKI, HAHA!" She hollered, waving one of them in the air as she accidently dropped the remaining thirteen, tumbling and crinkling down the staircase.

"Whoops." She mumbled, putting her finger to her cheek as they scattered around the floor, snickering at the parade of dried noodle parcels about her feet.

Bending down and picking them all up, Peyton scuffled into the kitchen and dumped them on the countertop.

Rubbing her hands greedily, she clapped with pure glee, arranging the bags into a neat, grid-like formation on the counter, "How many of these do you think we can EAT? Four? Five?"

Peyton glanced to her left to see Loki glaring at the neon packages with apprehension.

"Or two," she nodded with an embarrassed shrug and a throat clearing as she set two parcels aside, tuning down her over-excitement a few notches as she tossed the remainder in a heap in an upper cupboard, "Two should be just—fine. Ahhem. Yeah."

Taking a precautionary survey of the area, Peyton stuck a third bag behind her back as she was about to stuff it in the cabinet and Loki pretended not to hear the rustling of the plastic and he pressed his lips together to keep himself from smirking.

Opening both of the packages and placing two clusters of freeze dried noodles into the pot; Peyton retrieved a giant wooden spoon from the utensil drawer and began forcing the noodle-cubes underneath the hot water.

"Makin' soup yeah, yeah, yeah—makin' some soup yeah, yeah,yeah" she sang in an overly dramatized pop voice that undoubtedly resembled Michael Jackson, and stirred the boiling pot with the huge wooden spoon, once again earning disturbed stares from Loki.

As it cooked, Peyton used this time to do some more hard-core thinking.

After having first insight into the horrors of the incredible torture Loki had experienced, she wondered if it was appropriate to keep him here in the middle of a forest. He needed help.

He didn't need to live in a house with a girl who was a crook that **just so happened** to have three really, really bad split personalities and **just so happened** to have mutated genetic makeup that made her only ninety-eight percent human that **just so happened** to have lost the only device that could travel through the dimensions of space in an impenetrable void.

Alright. Maybe one of many devices that could travel through the dimensions of space. But there's not enough time to talk about all that.

But yeah.

Peyton was, as an understatement, dangerous and shouldn't be around someone who looked like he'd been released as captive from an enemy World War Two camp.

Loki needed a home. A hospital. A doctor.

She was not a doctor. Nor was she qualified to be one.

Sure the physical injuries would probably heal in a couple weeks, with luck. But what about the emotional injuries?

Peyton glanced back at her roommate over her shoulder to both her amusement and disappointment, Loki was playing absent-mindedly with the sticky Band-Aid she'd just attached to his arm –like she had explicitly told him not to do, not five measly minutes ago.

Her playful smile reappeared as she resumed scraping the boiling soup. Maybe the emotional ones would heal too. With time. Sooner rather than later hopefully.

But Peyton decided not to bother him; she'd prefer him to play innocently with a Band-Aid than to think about those awful beings who had caused him need bandages in the first place.

Maybe compared to where they would've been sent, the abandoned little cottage was like a secure haven instead of a Jailhouse. Peyton liked that thought. She liked thinking that she was safe. That he was safe…

Loki , on the other hand, was fighting from being deep in thought, keeping his eyes fixed for certain intervals on various objects in the room to keep his mind from thinking about… well, just thinking.

He decided to count. A rather childish pastime, but a simple one at that.

_This couch has four legs, that chair has four legs. That stool has three legs. I have two legs. Peyton has two legs._

He peered downwards.

_I have two feet, two legs, two arms, two hands, two lips, two eyes, two ears._

He took a peek behind him at the small girl, doing a mild jig, hopping back and forth from foot to foot.

_She has one—two feet._

Her feet did a little shuffle, not noticing Loki was watching her.

_Two legs._

She straightened one leg and bent the other rhythmically, doing a bit of a bob.

_Two lips._

Peyton pursed her lips into an 'o' shape and whistled twitterably.

_Two arms. Two hands._

She ripped the perforated tops of two little silvery bags and emptied out some orangish powder into the pot and continued stirring, accompanied by her whistling.

_Two eyes. Two ears._

But Loki, unbeknownst to him, was wrong. Not by a lot, but only by one point. Peyton does not have two ears. She, indeed, has four. But that was alright. He was mostly correct anyway.

Loki sighed. Some things are similar between species. Little things like the number of appendages or digits. Other things were different. Very different. They were not the same. He would never be like other people. Not that he specifically wanted to be human. Just… normal.

But, as been proven on several occasions, that could never be.

"Deener ees redee pipples!" She declared, scrambling his thought, and Peyton set the pot on an unheated burner and , clinking around in the cabinets, fetched two glass bowls and two flowery spoons.

Drifting out into the living room and coming around the couch, Peyton held out of one of the bowls to him.

Loki stared into the glass basin.

The bowl was steaming with a bright yellow broth with queues of thin, curly pasta. There was no sign of acts of cannibalistic cuisine so perhaps the 'raw-man' was not what it had implied.

Orbs of oil floated rampantly about within the bisque and overall appeared rather greasy and unhealthy. Though he'd never consumed such a dish before, Loki inferred that in it was probably scrumptious in comparison to what he **had **eaten this past year. During that time it was always very fortunate whenever he was granted food and learned relatively quickly not to be picky.

He shuddered to recall the platters hundreds of pink, squirming…

Loki shivered and his stomach squeezed inside out, feeling the deplorable sense of the scrabbling of tiny feet upon his face…

He tried not to gag and admitted that it the warm steam wafting from the bowl now smelled twice as delectable. In fact, against his will, Loki's mouth began to water.

He would've liked to see her eat it first, but it didn't seem as if Peyton was going to give him that option.

"Come on, it's good. You know it." She egged, putting it closer to his face.

Right on time, his own stomach betrayed him with a tolling rumble. Squinting, he lowered his head and grimaced at his own midsection. _Thank you splendidly, internal organs._

Peyton, of course, not allowing him to refuse chirped, "Here you go," with a mocking smile, and placed the bowl in his hand and skipped away to attain some of her own food.

Loki sighed.

Returning a few moments later, Peyton lounged in her chair with the most joyful of all expressions as she partook in her meal.

Loki no longer had to watch to get a glimpse of whether or not she would keel over from poisoning, after all she had done in just that evening, he realized he had developed the ability to trust her.

He lifted up small silver spoon between his lips and silently sipped of the soup. His eyes widened considerably as he gaped down at the toasty bowl in amazement. He couldn't believe it. It was delicious.

From then on Loki quietly relished in the taste of the warm, noodleful soup taking one tiny spoonful at a time and Peyton couldn't have looked any more delighted to see so.

Peyton could tell how hungry Loki was by the way he strived not to slurp his soup whilst he ate, cringing and browsing about dolefully if he did manage to make an unpleasant noise. She would occasionally draft her soup from her spoon, just to subliminally advise him that the intermittent "slurp" was okay and not deserving of physical punishment.

As Loki scoured the bottom of the bowl with his spoon he frowned upon recognizing that he had finished his.

Peyton, having hers over and done with surprisingly earlier than him, gave a brief little hiccup followed by , "Oops, excuse me," and covered her mouth as she went and poured herself some more.

Going back once more to her burgundy wingback chair, she took a seat and halted between half-spoonful noticing with her keen eyes that Loki's bowl was empty and was staring into it longingly.

She pouted.

Rising out of her chair, she slunk sneakily up to Loki's side without his discernment, and sliding her lips one side of her face whispered slyly, "Psst,"

He was startled.

"Hey…. Want some more?"

Timidly, he looked to the floor. _No._

She crouched on her knees and peeked around as if someone else was listening, before she cupped her hand around her ear and whispered even quieter, "I have another bag ya' know, I could make some more."

Loki pinched his eyes shut. It had been so good.

"Soooo…whadda ya' say, huh? Want some more?" Her grin ever spanning.

Finally daring to crack one of his lids open, he met the biggest, blackest eye he'd ever seen, right in front of his face, alarmed, he violently shook his head no.

A mistake he would regret. Big time.

A transformation occurred that Loki would not witness again for quite some time. Perhaps humans, or maybe just those with light brown-coloured skin like Peyton had the ability to change their entire personage—voice, tone, gait, disposition— without the slightest effort.

Loki was going to learn that there were three different kinds of black people. Normal ones, Peyton's, and Madea's.

For Loki Laufeyson, was about to observe something that no other Asgardian would ever be cursed to see. He was about to behold… a Madea.

Peyton stood up slowly. Painfully slow.

Pursed her red lips to such a degree that any fish would be shamed.

Cocked her head somewhat to the left.

Raised one of her eyebrows significantly higher than the other.

"I guess you forgot who you was tooawkin' to,"

Loki gulped. _Uh oh. _

Then something rather spectacular occurred, as if by sorcery, Peyton's Brooklyn snare was converted into a nasally Southern drawl as she professed calmly,

"My name is Peyton. PAY to the dern TEE-OH-ENN."

Out of the blue, Loki felt a chill creep in his spine and settle deep in his chest, waiting for something bad. And not knowing what it was.

What. In the nine realms. Just happened. To Peyton's voice?

She jumped up and hollered, drawing her hand back like she was going to slap him,

"BOIII QUIT ACTIN LIKE YA' FO-GOTTIN WHO I AMM!"

Peyton bobbed her head wildly, her dark tresses whipping about not unlike a hurricane, bouncing up and down.

"DON'T BE MAKIN UP STOW-REES LOW-KAYYYYYYYY SAYIN THAT YUR AIN'T HONNNNT-GRAYYYAYYAYYY!"

Every vowel spoken in that sentence was drawn out at five seconds than it should have with at the least fifteen extra syllables in between. Loki had never heard his name spoken like that in his entire life.

"BECAUSE I AIN'T NO FOOOOO OKAYYYY I AIN'T NO FOOOOOOO!"

Fear was a word that no longer contained enough meaning to describe how Loki was feeling at this moment.

She petulantly snatched the glass bowl away from the mortified demigod, who in defense had jammed the basin on his head as a sturdy helmet.

Her voice went up at least six decibels,

"Dis boi be lookin so surprizt like he hadt **forgttent** who I be, ain't nobody gont ta tell me dat dey ain't hontgree when I know yall be hontgree, as **eeyif** I he thint I **stupint **or suttin—"

And with a squeaking long peal as she sucked her teeth at the man, the very small and very angry sixteen year old, tan-skinned woman staggered like a drunken buffalo off into the kitchen muttering loudly in the strange and newly acquired dialect under her breath.

(I'm telling you I momentarily forgot how to speel corently aftur dis seekawense.)

"Where is da muthaflippen gosh jamm spoon?!"

"Clanking" noises and slamming ensued as she banged about in the kitchen.

"I just cleant up dis house yur would thint that I know where my own gosht dern spoon be at—"

"Oh," it had been sitting on the countertop directly in front of her face, Peyton chuckled embarrassedly "hehehe it be right cheer, hehehe I so be so smert sumtemps,"

Loki was knocked for six, eyes as large as one of the moons themselves, wondering where on Asgard he was, speculating if he was still awake and in the same house with the same human.

She sighed, collecting herself, "Dats whah I got fricken third case-a noodles in da farst place Loki—"

Peyton spun around and glared at him, striking him back and forth with her eyes.

"—HELLER!"

And it was over.

After washing out the bowl and cooking a fresh pot of Ramen Noodles, Peyton filled his bowl, even scraping the bottom of the pot with the enormous wooden spoon to salvage as much as she could, and wandered back around the forest green couch to meet a pair of scared, jade green eyes.

Remorsefully, Peyton perused Loki's face that winced when she approached, not taking a chance of being hurt.

"Sorry, Loki." her Brooklyn accent was back.

He unwound his arms from about his head, peeking up at the little girl who had no doubt had gone through some horrific change.

"It's not very hot," she said softly, awkwardly placing it in his lap, and sitting beside Loki, leaving a reasonable gap between their bodies.

Though through Loki's expressions he seemed exceptionally unnerved, they also read subtle gratitude as he ate the warm soup, earning a contented smile from Peyton.

Peyton just got pissed off when he wouldn't accept her acts of kindness, as if he still believed he didn't deserve it. Maybe one day she could offer him something without making her feel terrible about it.

"I'm going to guess you've never heard of Tyler Perry have you?" she inserted awkwardly.

Stopping, Loki looked at her with confusion and shook his head.

"Nope. I didn't think so. It's another black person thing."

It always baffled Loki the way Peyton mentioned the phrase 'black person thing' . Who were the 'black people'? Was she referring to herself? Some sort of race? There was nothing black about Peyton except her hair and eyes. It was all rather mystifying.

She smirked. "You'd kill yourself if you watched one of his movies." she laughed teasingly.

Peyton deadpanned, her heart sinking having realized her poor choice of words when he rested his spoon in his polished bowl in a downcast fashion.

Peyton tried to be fast to correct her blunder. "I didn't mean ta'—" she fumbled.

"Woy…" she wagged her head and bit her lip gloomily, hating herself once again.

Exhaling and feeling stupid, Peyton slapped her knees, and leaned backwards into the couch. "I ruin everything don't I?" She murmured forlornly to herself, casting her eyes to the ground.

Loki set his empty bowl on the nightstand, and peered downwards at the unhappy girl, feeling pretty miserable himself for making her suspect that of herself. _No you don't._

Peyton frowned. One day she would learn to keep her big mouth shut.

Loki folded his hands together and placed them despondently in his lap, not knowing what to do. There was certainly nothing he could say, even if he was able to speak.

Though her antics were both tiring and frightening, he knew that Peyton really meant well. She was human and for someone had been detained on an unfamiliar planet against her will, certainly Peyton had attempted to make the best of their problematic situation.

Peyton was only a child and though it had been their first evening together, she had done so much for him. Loki felt frail and quite useless, not having anything to contribute himself.

Pushing aside the bowl and the stack of books Peyton had given him earlier, with feeble hands Loki grabbed the steno pad and ballpoint pen. There had to be something he could do. Anything.

Sniffing, Peyton finally raised her head sleepily, wondering if she should just go upstairs to bed and leave the poor guy alone, having made him suffer enough. Doing a double take, both sets of her sensitive ears picking up the unusual sound, Peyton detected that Loki was doing something he hadn't done in what felt like forever. He was writing.

Peyton turned and faced him in anticipation, leaning in and peering nosily over his shoulder.

His lettering was, as before, scratchy, cramped, and unbelievably tiny, thankfully she had enhanced vision and was sitting right beside him as well.

Loki was clever and decided to cover her view with his arm until he was finished so that she wouldn't assume anything. Having been blocked off, Peyton crossed her arms and with a huff, waited patiently.

After a while, he completed his note and bashfully he handed it to Peyton, making certain she kept it close.

Anxiously, she skimmed the paper, "What…"

_What must I do to compensate you for your endeavors?_

"Loki…" she breathed, not believing what she was reading. She looked up at the much taller being positioned next to her and fingered the page with her tiny hand.

"You don't have to repay me for anything."

Loki's eyes fell to the floor.

"You don't understand," she faced him , "I didn't do all of this stuff for you to do something in return,"

Loki met the gaze of the little girl.

"I did what anyone else would've done, I didn't want you getting sick and I didn't want you to be hungry."

Peyton gave a tired smile as she examined his bandages and casts about his thin body. "And even if I did want you to, what could you possibly do? You can't even walk!"

It was true. Loki just wanted to be relieved of his guilt. Even if she had given him some impossible task, he would have been satisfied. But no. Peyton was too nice.

They sat in silence, listening the winds grate against the house.

"Maybe you can do something for me," Peyton piped up faintly.

She had his full attention.

"Can you say something?"

His heart leapt.

"Something? Anything?"

Loki shook his head wildly, the visions all coming back.

"Shhh," she hushed softly , "It's okay. It's okay."

He relaxed but only slightly, feeling shadows tugging on the ends of him.

"I just wanted to hear your voice," Peyton said innocently, pushing some of her hair behind her ears, "Can't you just say your name?"

No. That was the greatest of all sins. He could never say his name, not ever. Loki froze at the request, his entire body going empty and numb.

_No._

He shook his head and Peyton could see his eyes becoming filmy and pink. "Hey it's okay. "Shh," she consoled, feeling awful now for having made him cry, "I won't force you to do anything you don't want to."

Sniffling, Loki trembled mildly while Peyton was waiting for him to calm down, feeling embarrassed for having been teary-eyed in front of her again.

"You okay?"

He nodded with another sniffle.

Remembering what she had to do last time, Peyton rose from the sofa with the squeak of the tired springs beneath them, tore the paper of the legal pad, and placed in the fireplace, hoping it would still smolder even though the fire itself went out long ago

Heading for the bathroom , "I'm going to take a bath, don't go anywhere," , closing the door behind her , she took a deep breath in relief.

It was weird that there was a window in the bathroom. Windows in bathrooms meant trouble.

There was a little one and half foot by one and a half foot window in the shower, and while they were in the center of a dense forest, without a town for miles, it still made her feel watched.

But then again, Peyton always felt watched.

The bathroom was murky for she hadn't put any oil in the lamp attached to the wall, nor lit any of the candles. But she didn't need them to see.

Peyton stared into the cracked mirror above the pedestal sink, and took in her reflection and blinked.

Glowing yellow eyes blinked back at her through the gloom, like two orbs of light floating in the air.

No, she didn't need light. She could see perfectly fine in the darkness.

Stripping off all her clothes and laying them in a pile, she sighed at her uncovered body in the mirror and glimpsed warily at the open window. The only thing left on her person was her light-blue Cinderella watch on her arm, ticking steadily away as the only noise to break the silence. She had kept it underneath the sleeve of her sweater so as not to draw attention to it. Up until a week ago it had been used for a greater purpose than to tell time. But now it was just a clock, only a clock.

Her raven hair hung down past her bespeckled shoulders, and with a sigh she drew it up with her hand to get it out of her way, she couldn't stand it clinging to her much longer. She had been so flustered with everything after Odin left, she'd forgotten to put it back up. Taking two scrunchies, Peyton tied two ponytails way at the top of her head. Twisting each one and wrapping them around their bases they formed two distinct doughnuts upon the sides of her head, crowning her.

Peyton should've done it earlier to hide her other ears because she swore they had shown on a number of occasions. Wearing her hair out was a recipe for disaster. Nevertheless, it didn't seem like Loki noticed them, but she wanted to keep it that way.

Exhaling , she stuck out her long tongue and made a face at herself.

Peyton hated doing this, but she didn't want to waste anymore water tonight to save for showers in the morning, plus, had she got into the bathtub, she might've fallen asleep there. She could've just put on pajamas and went on to bed, but she despised going to sleep dirty.

Nope. She would have to do it the old-fashioned way.

(I hope this doesn't gross anyone out or give anybody nightmares or anything. I just thought it necessary to freak you out with something unexpected. Because that's what I do best.)

Bowing her head, she started with her arms, grazing them in long strokes, tickling her own olive skin, collecting the day's grime. Then across her stomach, she craned to reach her sides and stretched to go down her legs, scrubbing meticulously. Quite flexible, Peyton twisted to contact her back and shoulders without much effort, scrupulously working to uncontaminate herself.

Excavating and exploring her own territory, she was very thorough. After seeing what had happened to Loki, she wanted to be a sterile as possible. Some places (the obvious ones) she left alone, refusing to be **that** animalistic.

Licking the back of her hand with the scrape of her sandpapery tongue, she pertly wiped her face with the backs of her cupped hands, oily from sweat. The process was rather tiring and drawn out taking at least twenty minutes of her time to do it correctly.

Taking a deep breath, she poised and examined herself up and down. "Done." She breathed. She had never felt so dirty.

Peyton dared herself to look at her tongue, what could have possibly gathered there, and in response she gagged.

Involuntarily, she grappled for her toothpaste and toothbrush and did a thorough scour around her mouth for at least five minutes, gargling and spitting. With a final rinse, she grimaced. "Why do humans have to be so gross," she whined quietly.

Picking a hair off of her tongue and shuddering, Peyton squealed faintly, "How in the world do cats do this all the time?!"

Despite however many times she did it, over the years, she never got used to the feeling of cleansing herself that way. Peyton supposed even though it was nasty, it was hygienic and that it should seem natural. But it wasn't. Ninety-eight percent of her was still human.

Placing her hand on her cheek , Peyton watched as her counterpart with the yellow eyes did the same and she sighed. Most of the time she just felt like a product of some messed-up sci-fi movie.

Why did she have to be the cat-human-Dissociative Identity Disorder-diagnosed-space-traveling-thief freak? Why couldn't she just be…

Peyton petted her hair where she knew two black triangular ears were hidden underneath.

… Normal?

Why did all of this have to happen to all of her? She never asked for all of it. It just happened. She had been too naïve. Trusted too many people.

After waiting for her skin to air dry, she put on night attire and dropping her dirty clothes in the hamper, left the bathroom.

* * *

Loki was settling himself on the couch when he heard a vomiting noise come from the bathroom and he rose instantly. He heard the sink and grumbling noises next and immediately became worried. Peyton said that she was going to take a bath but Loki had heard no water running until that brief time. Pushing the event from his mind, he composed himself and lowered back into the couch painfully and tried in vain to forget about it.

Peyton stepped out of the bathroom wearing a long, white nightgown with her hair modified into two odd little buns atop her head and in her hand was a folded rose-coloured bundle.

Taking a seat beside him, she stated tersely, "For you to sleep in," and assisted him to pull in over his head and around the squishy layers of medical gauze.

"There we go," Peyton exhaled.

Loki surveyed the T-shirt, dragging hand over the white, plasticy letters on the front of it that read _Strong Men Wear Pink _in all capital font. It was rather over-sized and if he stood it would probably come to his knees, but it was comfortable.

Peyton flushed, biting her inner lip ,"Sorry it's pink, it's the only shirt I had big enough to fit over all of those bandages.

Loki did nothing in reply, the colour itself did not bother him, in fact, he almost liked it. He just continued to stroke the slippery letters on the front with his fingers that professed such a bold-faced lie. He was wearing pink. But he was far from strong.

Going into the linen closet, she fetched clean sheets and a pillow, with Loki's help, made a little makeshift bed for him of the sofa. Heading up to her room one last time, (she swore the flight of stairs got longer each trip), as he lowered himself on top of the cotton sheet, afterhe'd successfully removed his leather boots, she draped her thick, red quilt over him.

"Comfortable?"

He nodded, feeling the warm woolen fibers encompassing his skinny body. "Good." She said pleasantly, happy that there was at least something for him to nod his head about.

Peyton grinned, showing the little gap between her teeth as she sighed, "It's been a long day hasn't it?"

To her surprise, a half a smile snaked up Loki's lips as he gave a bashful nod, giving a little sigh himself.

"Well they say the first day in prison's always the hardest right?"

He had never heard that phrase, nor had he considered the house a prison up until this point, to it though he gave an uncertain nod.

Gazing up at the ceiling, Peyton blurted a giggle, "Although I think today was kind of fun too , huh? What do you think?" She asked cheerfully, still smiling.

Loki remembered when Peyton screamed at Odin and Thor and when she sang and danced to a rather loud and obnoxious song called _The Doom Song _(if he recalled correctly) and when she gave him his first book in ages and when she sparred with the dusty coat rack by the door and how he had to build a pillow fortress about himself and when she turned into some strange woman that pounced on him and threatened to hurt him and when she nursed him with a foreign ice remedy and when she dared to almost speak the forbidden name of his brothers and when she made him Raw-man Noodles and when she transformed into a raging madwoman with one of the most frightening voices in the universe.

Even though for a good percentage of the day Loki had been trembling in fear, in retrospect , conceivably, in a morbid sort of way, as a whole, it was almost amusing. Possibly… and when was the last time he was able to use the word… fun?

He nodded briefly in agreement. Maybe that day had been fun. Insane but fun. And perhaps that's what Peyton was as well, insane but fun.

Peyton was astonished to know that he had enjoyed their first day together, though it was nerve-wracking, scary, and tiresome. "I'm glad you think so,"

"Time for bed, Princess," she sang, leaning over to turn off the oil lamp on his nightstand and then turning around before he could see her eyes, when Loki gasped. The dark.

Alarmed, Peyton whipped around and he squeaked upon the horrific sight. Her eyes beamed like fireflies amidst the darkness.

She reached out and turned the dial on the lamp, brightening the room once again, before he could see anything.

"What's wrong?"

Loki stared at her, then the lamp, then back at her. He could have sworn Peyton's eyes were… gleaming.

Then he shook his head dismissively, he probably just imagined it. He didn't want to be in the dark, with all of the shadows…

Peyton gazed questioningly at the lamp. He was afraid of the dark.

"Do you want me to keep the lamp on?"

He didn't need to give a second thought before he nodded promptly.

She accepted, kneeling, reaching out, and turning it down low until just a faint glow burned from the wick, not enough to see anything but enough to have something nice to look at.

"Is that alright?"

Another nod.

"Okay then," and she began to stand to leave, but before she could, Loki's hand shot out and he grabbed by the wrist. Surprised, Peyton drew in a quick breath.

Loki's luminous green eyes glowed with their own luster amidst the gloom, fearful and unguarded, gazing warily up at her. He did not want her to go.

_Stay here. Please?_

Peyton's heart crumbled into dust as she touched his cool, pale hand, still clamped tightly around her wrist like a lock. It was just like earlier, and he still felt the same way. He still felt safer when she was around, and terrified when she wasn't. No one had ever felt that way about her before. It was strange to know this was a grown man. So lost and so broken. But she knew she had to treat him as a child. She had to assure him that things would be alright.

For the first time, Peyton was struck with the randomest of all urges. She wanted to…hug him. But she couldn't. Not only was he a stranger, he was a man. And Peyton **did not **hug men, she didn't care who they were, torture victims or not. She shook her head quickly, and as fast as it came, like a gray cloud, the temptation faded and left her.

"Everything is going to okay, Loki." Peyton added, "I promise."

_I promise. _Those words echoed in Loki's mind over and over and for the remainder of the night. _I promise. _

Gradually releasing his grip, his long, snowy fingers slipping, with a gulp, he pulled his hand underneath his blanket, not taking his eyes away from her.

"Goodnight, Loki." Peyton bidded, and even though it was dark, he could hear her soft smile in her voice.

He nodded for the final time. _Goodnight, Peyton._

With that, she winked and with a final smile to her guest, Peyton floated up the stairs on her flighty tiptoes, her gown trailing behind her, without even the tiniest groan coming from the stairs.

Loki watched her leave and was left wide-eyed, alone, in the living room, listening to the winds whistling through the surrounding forests.

Though he hadn't had a decent night's rest in months and after the long day, dread kept his eyes open, minute after minute. What would happen when he fell asleep? Would he wake up only to find this was all just a dream?

There was one thing he was certain about, Peyton. She would not do him harm. Though he couldn't really understand why. Loki still couldn't understand Peyton's attitude towards him. He was a monster, yet she treated him with graciousness. Maybe she was delusional and maybe she had her own set of issues. But she made him feel… better.

And perhaps that was a good thing.

These thoughts rumbled through his mind as he fell into troubled dreams.

Peyton ascended to her room, dropping immediately to her 'bed' which was really just a great pile of blankets. Scrabbling underneath, and curling into a ball she sighed as she rested her head on her pillow.

There was a convict downstairs and for anyone else, they wouldn't be able to rest with that kind of pressure. But Peyton on the other hand, was still alive, Loki hadn't attempted to kill her yet, nor did she believe he ever would. He was not the person she initially thought he was.

Loki had been through **a lot **and seemingly he was no longer and the evil, conniving murderer everyone professed him to be. As of course that was a wonderful thing, he should have been giving the chance, though, of relinquishing himself, rather than having been shipped off to be tortured.

Her feelings swarmed in loop-de-loops as she recalled to mind the day's events. Loki now had the physical capability of an eighty-year-old grandpa and the emotional equivalence to a toddler and over this time, though it would be a fuss, she was going to try her best to help him. He served for his wrongdoings. Now it was time for him to become a better person.

It was odd. Though she had worked all day and was dead tired, she felt… better. And that was all that mattered.

Peyton sighed as she closed her bleary lids over her eyes. At least she would have one peaceful night's rest. She turned out her own lamp, and let herself slip into silent slumber.

But, dear reader, would it be a peaceful night?

END OF DAY ONE

**That last line. Does it excite you? It excites me. Just the happiness from typing the end of day one. Awesome.**

**Question. Do you think Peyton is too complicated a character? I mean obviously she has mental problems, well now you know she has physical problems too. They ,of course, have their stories. But I don't want her character to overpower Loki's, then it loses it's edge. Do all of her issues bother you, or do they make it that much more intriguing? **

**_REVIEW!_**


	17. Youtube Excuses

"Hello readers! You have been severely missed! I'm sorry I haven't been updating. I've taken a bit of a hiatus, but hopefully this video will clear things up. I made a channel just for the purpose of fanfiction so you can subscribe to me if you the way, don't laugh at me, I had a pretty tough week and I look absolutely horrendous it's pitiful...

Alright laugh, I know it's inevitable.

/watch?v=nPubDlEVnPU&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Love you all,

PetiteElefant"


	18. Chapter XIII--Nightmares

OHD is a story of pain, tears, apples, laughter, thievery, knitting, secrets, coffee, embraces, and spasmodic dancing.

**Holy.**

**Muthaflippen.**

**Crapola.**

***rubs eyes***

***squints***

**Readers?**

***blinks***

**Is that you?**

***gasp***

**It is!**

**Hooray!**

**Oh my word, I've missed you guys so much! Ah! It feels like years! It's only been about five weeks. So yes, it does feel like years. **

**As I had informed you by means of a video (which I know that didn't work out so well considering only a handful was able to access the video and I'm sorry for the misguidance), I have just finished moving. Cruddy excuse, I know, but trust me, if I had attempted to write during that time, this chapter would have ended up more like this:**

**Peyton awoke from a bad dream. She heard screaming. She thought it was a robber. It was Loki. She tried to wake him up, and, as a result, almost got killed. The End.**

**And certainly most of you wouldn't have been too satisfied with that entry.**

**So, again, several grueling apologies for the long wait, hopefully that will never happen again. That's why I felt so guilty and made that shoddy video because I felt so bad):**

**Gosh I looked so horrid in that video. I mean really that—that was pretty bad. But. *sigh* On days when I look better I will post videos so I won't have to write so much chit-chat before the chapters themselves because, let's face it, I get annoyed by my own lengthy rambles, I know it's worse for you.**

**But enough of me.**

**Oh boy. Anyway, I've missed you and this story so please forgive me and take this as a token of an apology!**

**Replies: **

**ArainaHaldthin— Wow. That is the longest review I have ever received. A million thanks! No really! I can have no more appreciation than I can for someone who is thorough and completely honest about my writing. Really thank you. As such, I will also give my best reply. So here we go.**

**First thing, hopefully I can help you make up your mind on whether or not you like this story.**

**For the goodies~Thank you! Peyton certainly is very original and unique. She is basically…me! (Hehe…you called her adorable(: Thankies) Yup. If it were possibly to put this story into it's actually category it would be hurt/comfort/humor/friendship/spiritual/crack. But there's no room for that. So I did the next best thing. YES THERE ARE GOING TO BE MORE CRAZY ADVENTURES TO COME. NEVER FORGET THAT. DON'T GIVE UP ON ME! Ok. Ahhem. Sorry. OMG THANK YOU FOR TELLING ME THAT PEYTON ISN'T A MARY SUE! YEHEHEHEHEHEHESSSSS! HAHA! And jes. No cursing. I only allow Peyton to curse in Creole. No one knows what the heck she's saying anyways.**

**For the fears I'm about to disband~The length of this fanfiction troubles me every day. But I love it too much. I just want to make a promise. Not just to you but to everyone. **

****DAY ONE IS THE LONGEST DAY OF THE STORY!****

**I PROMISE.**

**I had never planned on Day One being so long. It worries me so much that I even planned on taking this story down and starting over! But I swear on my life Day One is the longest one. Day Two is going to consist of three or four chapters. Day three of…well…I'm not sure. A lot happens that day (of which I'm not going to reveal). But I will tell you—every day after that is going to consist of ONE. MEASLY. CHAPTER. Excluding the "special" chapters that are really important. So no. Every day isn't going to be ten chapters. That would be just ludicrous. Day One just screws with us all. All of us.**

**Okay now on the subject of Peyton again. After all the wonderful things you said about her…I'm sort of confused. Does she really give you a headache? She comes off stupid? Really? Well. Um. To tell you the truth she is actually very intelligent. Maybe it's just hard to tell I guess. I admit. She is definitely off her onion. But considering I base her character off of myself (and all my friends call me Peyton by the way) and the fact that you called her stupid…I suppose I'm the tiniest bit—though I told myself never to take too seriously anything negative a reviewer may say—offended. But don't worry. I understand.**

**I compromise a lot. But, if I learned anything from my little discrepancy with NoVacancyMind (which just ended up being a misunderstanding), is that I cannot submit to all of the wishes of my readers. I love you all and I'll do almost anything for you guys. But as I say before almost every chapter, Peyton is mine. This story is my fandom. My one and only fandom. I cannot and will not change her. As far as 'calming her down'…no. I'm sorry. Her insanity is what makes her AWESOME. On the bright side, these next couple of chapter are pretty somber. There won't be any craziness for a while so that should settle you.**

**To answer your P.S. : Peyton is definitely from our world. She's from Brooklyn, New York. It's an insane story on how she got to Asgard, which, if I write fast enough, I can get to that explanation before Christmas :/**

**Thank you again for your feedback, though, and I really do hope you continue to review. Hopefully, this chapter can help you decide. Thank you again for the elaborate response :D**

**Msgone—Hello new reviewer! Thank you for your response to my questions. I will try not to reveal so much. I went a little 'spoiler crazy' last chapter and I'm going to go back a take a bit out. But I will certainly take your advice and reveal piece by piece in her day to day activities. I like that idea a lot, thanks. And don't worry, I've been planning a good nightmare since when I first came up with the idea for this story. And trust me…Peyton will break her 'rule' very,very, very soon(;**

**NoVacancyMind—Ah! Hello dear! Yes your humble reviews mean oodles to me. You and Sparki. I ****_need _****them. Or I will go crazy. Observe what happens to me prior to an update.**

**'Oh my GOD, she didn't review! Neither did Sparki! WhatdidIdowhatdidIdowhatdidIdo?! *screams* Shannon!(my friend) Read this! Look! Read this chapter, is there anything wrong with it? No. I don't care if you've already read it. Read it ****_again._****Is there anything ****_wrong_****. ****_with. it. _****Why am I asking you? BECAUSE NO ONE'S MUTHAFRIGGEN REVIEWED YET!' Literally. That's what happens. Every chapter. Every time. It's sad. This fanfiction has maddened me.**

**But yeah. Guh. Peyton. I get mad at myself sometimes because I make her past dark and her back story very complicated and I feel her character overpowers Loki. So I'm trying to turn it down a bit.. People take their OC too seriously. Either too seriously or not seriously enough. Slowly I'm trying to find my happy medium. I hope I didn't 'dumpy' too much last chapter. I was really worried. You said I am fine so far. And I love you for that. Really. I was about to go nuts. If you can't tell I am absolute perfectionist. And hooray! Im glad it seems like I'm leaving a piece of the puzzle each chapter. I must be doing something right. Thank you.**

**Oh question. Totally irrelevant. You are free to fling rotten fruit if I'm wrong. But. Um. The way you go 'yeah?' or 'ja?' after some of your sentences and your speech pattern. Are you…uh…Canadian? Oh god. I'll feel so crazy if I'm incorrect but…it's so…MUTHAFLIPPEN CUTE! I can barely stand it when I read your reviews sometimes. I know I sound insane stroke creepy but..I don't know. Accents , speech patterns, dialects, they all fascinate me. Anyway. Um. Yeah. I am the definition of awkward. Meh.**

**Sparki11—Ay! Thank you! Ah I really don't deserve all of your compliments really. Thank you! SOMEONE LOVES PEYTON :D …AND LOKI! Heehee! Day two coming up, love! I hope you enjoy it. Don't get too scared. PM me (or email) soon girlie girl(;**

**Anon (AKA MegaUltraBraniacLady)—Alright I guess I won't have to duct tape your mouth. But I warn you. It will be quite a while until that revelation is upon us. I hope you will be able to contain your excitement. In the meanwhile, enjoy this chapter.**

**Anon (DuchessofSixTwoSix)— You. Yes. I'm talking to you. *slaps* YES OF COURSE I WILL WRITE THAT STORY FOR YOU YOU SILLY GOOSE! YOU GIDDY GOAT! AAH! THAT'S LIKE THE BEST IDEA IN THE FREAKING UNIVERSE. I had already had in mind a chapter where (somehow Peyton finds a VCR and a television set in her Impossible Bag) Peyton makes Loki watch a movie. Something of course that has an underlying relevance to their relationship. I had been thinking Beauty and the Beast or Martian Child. But pfft. Lilo and Stitch? THAT'S. SO. PERFECT. I'm not sure when I will do it. Somewhere in week two or week three. (Sounds like forever but we'll get there.) But I promise. This is so happening.**

**Hauntedone—I love you. I shall continue what I am doing. Don't puke too much, I'll need a mop. Keep reviewing…and I'll love you even more. Ciao!**

**Me zanmi. SEVEN REVIEWS. SEVEN. FRICKEN. REVIEWS. **

**I think I may faint. THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH I'VE NEVER HAD SO MANY FOR ONE CHAPTER! **

**PLEASE CONTINUE TO REVIEW SO THAT I CAN REPLY TO ALL YOU WONDERFUL PEEPS I LOVE YOU!**

**ENJOY THIS CHAPTER!**

**Disclaimer: Come on now really. Really? No.**

**Warnings: Nightmares and a death by asphyxiation.**

**Chapter XIII: Day Two—Nightmare**

-December Second, Two-Thousand and Thirteen

"Dreams are the only thing that makes us question reality when we aren't even in it."—A Thief

Some are cursed with smelly feet. Some are cursed with nosebleeds. Some are cursed with funny ears or a weak sense of humour. And few, like Peyton, are cursed with light sleeping. Some lighter than others. Much lighter.

But this time, something a bit more distracting than a fly buzzing around or a leaky faucet or a pin dropping aroused Peyton from an uneasy slumber that night.

A tiny, dusty skinned girl lay tossing and turning on a tier of piled blankets. Something was disturbing the usually sprightly young human as she fought through the deserts of her dreams.

"Please you've got to help me find…it, please. I need it…" the small, sleeping child muttered briskly as she rolled over on her stomach. "H-have you seen it? I need to go home…I don't know where I am...can you help me?"

The young woman grappled her pillow tightly and drew it close to her face until she was smothering herself. "Please—somebody…help!"

All sounds quieted until a chilling moan cracked the scene.

"Nnnnnnnnnn…"

Peyton's eyes shot apart and launched upright in her bed, panting heavily with her breath appearing in white, frosty clouds in front of her.

Her eyes nervously tickered about in the complete darkness, getting visual of familiar shapes amongst the gloom. It was still the middle of the night.

Composing herself, Peyton relaxed and laid back down, dragging the warm blanket up to her shoulders and sighing in relief. Her exhale of relief morphed into that of tired reluctance. "Still in Asgard," she breathed. She'd had another one of those dreams about when she had first arrived. She was so scared, not knowing where she was. And now she did, and was still just as timorous.

Settling down and curling up, her mind was drifting away to the land of dreams, when her train of thought was postponed.

"Uhnnnnnnnn…"

Her wide, dusky eyes snapped open and the distant sound detected, forced her head to pivot to the direction towards the closed bedroom door. From behind the wooden enclosure was another droning cry emanating from some far away origin.

A chill climbed Peyton's spine as she tightened her grip on the edge of her cover with a thick swallow.

"Loki?" she whispered, blinking, stunned, in the quiet little room she called her own.

Another groan crawled up the creaky steps and settled outside of the vicinity, sending her to shiver and her heart to palpitate. Peyton's pulse quickened and she supposed that he must have been having bad dreams or something.

_Sorry._

Dismissively, she let out a long breath and warily drew the blanket safely over her head, trying in vain to block out the sound.

Moans of distress prolonged over a period, oozing up the stairwell and seeping through the cracks in the door like maple syrup. Peyton screwed her eyes shut and pinched her lips together, her heart pounding like the rhythmic beat of a drum—the grouse wouldn't stop. She squeezed her palms over her ears and clenched her teeth but found it impossible to ignore the tormented cries.

A shout broke through the void and caused Peyton to shriek with fright, popping out of her quilted fortress. Breathing swiftly in and out of her mouth, becoming ever more anxious, she uncontrollably trembled. She couldn't take it anymore. There had to be something downstairs, she just knew it, and she couldn't be a coward and hide in her room.

"Ahh!"

Upon hearing that, not a single second elapsed before Peyton instantly gasped, tossed off the covers, leapt out of bed ,and threw open her bedroom door with a slam. Racing, she tore down the stairs two at a time, her white gown trailing behind her flailing feet.

Reaching the ground floor, she performed a spectacular imitation of a tuck-and-roll into the living room and without any hesitation (meaning without taking a proper survey of the surrounding area first), with an apt battle pose, gave a warning cry, "ALRIGHT WHO GOES THERE?!"

Upon not getting a reply, Peyton constricted her clasp on a traffic cone coloured flask she had within her hands and guardedly assessed her current region, the yellow lenses of her eyes visible as they darted about in the dark, searching.

Scuttling over to her burgundy chair and crouching behind it to adumbrate herself from any possible assailants, "OKAY!" she shouted waveringly, clutching the tube close to her face, "I'VE GOT MACE AND I'M NOT AFRAID TO USE IT!"

When silence followed, she added in the same volume, "PLUS I USED TO KICKBOX SO I GOTTA' FOOT THAT'LL BREAK YOUR JAW!"

Of course, had there been someone else in the house at the time, which should be added—there wasn't- they could only be **so** intimidated by a tan-skinned girl in a little white gown, who—again something else to be mentioned— was only five feet tall, or in better words, short, with two doughnut-buns atop her head.

Oh yes.

Ooh.

Very scary.

She, shaking considerably as she tried not to lose her head, could hear loud panting and shuffling emanating from behind her chair, seeming to get louder.

Peyton with intrepid gleam in her sallow eyes and blocking her shoulders to a tenacious angle, gathering up all the courage she could salvage, closing her lids she counted off the numbers in her head, "One…two…three!"

All of a sudden, Peyton leapt out from behind her chair with a defensive stance, aiming her peppery weapon ahead of her like a gun, and upon receiving image of the condition of the living room, she, in pure shock, the cartridge fell through her fingers and dropped with a metallic 'clunk' on the floor.

A miraculous stunt was accomplished next. For, simultaneously, it seemed as though the doughnut buns crowning Peyton ran for cover, because, at the sight, they collapsed into two unfurled pigtails, swinging defeatedly by her ears.

"Me zanmi…" she breathed in utter disbelief, eyes swelled to their largest as the skirts of her gown pooled around her feet.

The red, woolen blanket she had given him was tossed the other end of the room. The velvety green couch cushions were strewn about as well, and the ones remaining on the actual sofa were disheveled, some crooked or hanging askew.

The physical appearance of the space itself was already disconcerting. However, as her line of vision rested upon the center of the settee, the condition of the man sited in the upset room, was much, much more disturbing.

Peyton almost screamed.

There was Loki. The man who was to become her guardian. His body was curled into the fetal position, the sheet had twisted and had tangled his ankles and arms in a whirl, his bony, white fingers were digging laboriously into his inky hair. He was trembling violently as overcome by fevers, panting and moaning. Worst of it, and she could tell, he was doing so all in his sleep.

Peyton clapped her hands over her mouth as a spring of tears rushed behind her eyes, turning them flush pink. "Oh my god!"

At a lightning speed, Peyton dashed over and knelt at the quaking figure's side. "L-Loki?"

"Loki?" she whispered, biting her lip as if she said to too loudly she would die of fright.

Holding her breath, she extended a shaky finger towards him, fearing whether or not she should awaken him or even touch him with the state that he was in.

Suddenly, Loki groaned again, his lip quivering as he curled further into a ball.

"Loki, wake up, shh, it's okay."

She lifted a tremoring hand, and began stroking his cool, sweaty forehead. He cringed considerably at her touch, whimpering, tears streaming from his fastened eyes. Such a response struck Peyton to her inner core as she consoled tenderly,

"Shh—shh."

He only began to cry more, muttering something unintelligible as Peyton attempted to arouse him from his nightmare.

Peyton tried to unhitch Loki's hands from burrowing into his skull, but whenever she did manage to get them away, he'd put them back, flinching and crying out, like someone was hitting him. She'd even tried pulling out her pigtails and wrapping her scrunchies about his wrists to keep him from harming himself, but soon after, he'd fought so restlessly, they busted.

At one point she got so desperate, she began pushing him about to awaken him, only to cause shriller screams from her guardian as he struggled to shove her away, believing something was assaulting him relentlessly that he couldn't get away from.

Peyton was so frightened she felt faint. Her brain switched into hyper drive, she didn't know what to do.

"Loki, PLEASE get up, you're okay now, it's okay!" she pleaded, on the verge of tears. Her pulse was racing swiftly; it no longer pounded, but fluttered. His panting grew louder.

This was certainly no ordinary nightmare. Loki was actually delirious; having vicious delusions that something was vehemently assaulting him.

Peyton's mind was rapid, nothing was working, she'd even tried striking him which only multiplied his powerful wretching. She just wanted it to stop. Something snapped inside her head, no longer responsible for her actions, compelled by her own blow on adrenaline, Peyton did something mad.

"I'm so sorry." she expressed weepingly. Peyton threw out her hand and drew up his clammy hair and lunged forward. Grabbing hold of him and pulling his head towards her, with her horrifically austere canines, she bit starkly on the nape of his neck with a crunch.

Immediately, all movement stopped.

Hearing the crack of his neck, Peyton's eyes popped and she went straight nauseous, about to vomit. She had bitten much too hard.

Detaching her teeth slowly from the nuque like retractable blades, she withdrew from the post-frenetic man, frozen in pure disbelief with a face more than terrified.

His panting had ceased abruptly. Her heart skipped a beat.

"Loki?"

The man was still, he had fallen limp, with his face buried into the sofa. Blood seeped from two punctures in his neck.

_Oh crap._

"Loki?!" she cried, ever more mortified. There was no response.

"Loki?" she said softer.

The entry wounds leaked crimson, trailing across his pale skin down onto the collar of his pink tee-shirt.

She cupped her hand over her mouth and gasped.

"I killed him!" she screeched at such a high pitch, it would've shattered your computer screens.

Peyton, never dreaming that she could ever murder anyone (especially not with a single bite), would've fainted had a daunting event not occurred in that very moment.

All was motionless in the room. For three seconds.

Three…two…one.

Unanticipatedly, a white hand out through the night instantly coming upon a living body, Peyton's, and clenched around her neck.

The force knocked the wind out of her. Her breath was trapped inside her chest, but her mouth was gaped open.

"Loki?!" she exclaimed breathlessly, her eyes bugged out of her head, trying to get him to let go.

But it didn't.

He was still alive. And was now very much awake.

The grip fastened, enclosing her throat, barring the way for any further cries. Peyton's hands jumped to her neck, struggling to pry his hand away. His clutch gradually tightened, crushing her vocal cords. She couldn't shout. She writhed and pulled but Loki's firm hand kept her upright.

Loki's head jerked up from the pillow as he stood up quickly, yanking her upwards, her bare feet dangling. His green eyes dark and relentless, piercing into hers. Peyton's eyes grew impossibly wider, the whites of them as wide and round as a cueball. Her mouth extended into a gasp but was unable to take in air and felt the knife of the lack of oxygen rip her throat and lungs.

He was staring at her with a menacing face contorted with hatred, shaking with the strength he was using to strangle her. The phizog of an irrepressible slayer. A ghastly countenance that Peyton would not forget for a very long time.

Even in his weakened state, he was stronger than most humans; her weight in his single hand was practically as light as a feather. Her eyes cried for mercy. His constraint increasing every second, white fingers puncturing into her skin.

Loki glared at her icily as he breathed maliciously with a tone dripping with evils, "You plagued me. You tormented me until you assumed me dead. But I am alive and will make you suffer—as have you done to me."

Peyton let out a silent scream.

Peyton couldn't understand why he was doing this. She'd hurt him just enough to jolt him. There was only one explanation. Loki was definitely wide awake, but he was still hallucinating.

She had to snap him out of it before he murdered her. Her brain was whizzing, but the lack of oxygen made her dizzy and her vision was beginning to blur. Peyton felt as if her lungs were collapsing and her neck was going to snap. Her wide, black eyes hopelessly danced about his face, searching for any sign of his releasing her. Her mouth was drawn back in an eternal scream. She dug her claw-like fingernails into his hand. If she could only say her name, to tell him who she was.

"Any last words, CRETIN?" Loki spat, constricting harder.

Peyton knew she was going to die any second.

_This is it, this is the end._

She knew he hadn't wanted to kill her, this dream—this nightmare— was devoted to someone else. Someone despicable. Not for her. There was so much she wanted to have told him.

Peyton mustered up the last iota of oxygen and forced upwards with all of her might, the sheer pain of it tearing her insides, to breathe her final word to her destroyer, the only thing she'd ever really wanted to say to Loki.

"So-rry."

**_REVIEW!_**


	19. Chapter XIV--Sorry

OHD is a story of pain, tears, apples, laughter, thievery, knitting, secrets, coffee, embraces, and spasmodic dancing.

**I haven't died. School is back, meaning procrastination. And if anyone knows what I'm talking about, that means updates. JUNIOR YEAR BABY.**

**I'm stuck, particularly today, with crap tons of homework so I haven't really edited this chapter well. Please excuse any errars.**

**Also. For those of you who reviewed(you know who you are), thank you so much! I promise one day I will make a video. I no longer own a phone. And my camera eats batteries and I no longer have anymore. Therefore, I am stuck without a filming device. Very sorry.**

**Replies:**

**AngelicScream—Your review made me want to scream. Yes, yes, yes, please BELIEVE that there wil be many strange twists to come. I am ESTATIC that you love my story this much. Readers like you make all the hard work worthwhile. If I ever finish this fic, I will personally mail you some real genuine cookies if you go back and read it the whole thing worth sleepless nights. When you said that it made my heart swell. *sniffs* Okay. I actually must do this right now.**

**"For me right now.. it's like I'm in a giant bubble made out of mirrors walking after Peyton while I eat popcorn. And occasionally flip out whenever I learn something very surprising about her. It's awesome! I love it! I LOVE YOUR STORY! (wow I think I may need to get some sleep, I'm screaming my love in caps lock)."**

**Can I just say. That is the most wonderful description I have ever heard in my ENTIRE life. PM me. Soon.**

**Oh and I can totally relate to the laptop charger thing. Mine doesn't even warn me anymore. It just shuts down and I'm like, 'We gotta' go get some counciling or something. Because this communication thing is a problem.'**

**Yeah. Moved and happy! Thank goodness! Took up my whole summer but *shrug***

**P.S.—My mother actually made that hat for a wacky costume day for my sister last year! It's made out of felt. Ticket to quirky and awesome hats—GoodWill. GoodWill is where it's at.**

**P.S.S.—Awww:D Thank you! **

**MsGone—I'm not sure I ever mentioned this before and I guess it's an awkward thing to ask but…is that your puppy? HE'S SO CUTE! Will Loki wake up in time? I guess we'll have to see(; Ooh a new chapter dance? Time for a new jive. AND DO THE CHAP-TA SHAKE! *queue flash mob and Harlem Shake music* **

**A man who fell from the sky—I just want to say I love your username and welcome to OHD! Thank you, they make the oddest pair. And don't cry *brings a tissue* . Tis going to be otay.**

**NoVacancyMind—Miss Vacancy! Aww, I totally would've had made 'the Canadian' thing and thing between us. But it's okay. North Carolina is great. *sigh* I can only do a New Jersey (I'm from New York, meh) and an Indian accent. But I do them pretty well though(;**

**ArainaHaldthin—It's all good in the neighborhood(: I'm calm when I'm not in fandom mode. Peyton should never try drugs, that's all I'm going to say on the subject. I hope you like this chapter, she's a bit…dormant?**

**DarkMarina—HEEEYYYY GURLLL IS YOU OTAY?! Of course you're okay. I love you. Your review almost made me cry honey, I am so UNBELIEVABLY happy. Well you know all my methods to writing. I freak out. I take six to nine hours to write over the course of days. I freak out. I abuse thesaurus dot com. I spell check. I consult you. Then I reply to reviews. I wish the process was simpler. But you've helped me develop One Hundred Days into what it is and I thank you! I'm expecting another wonderful response from you and I'll see you at school!**

**Arrowhead1996—I'M HERE! Loki may or may not kill Peyton. I can't make promises. You'll just have to read. JK. She'll be fine. Enjoy.**

**SEVEN REVIEWS AGAIN. I AM LOVING THIS PATTERN. ILY.**

**Disclaimer: Fandoms should not be owned, they should be shared.**

**Warnings: Hallucinations. Death. Shadows. A Journal. Candles. Water. Books. And a quiet English voice.**

**Chapter XIV: Day Two—Sorry**

"So-rry."

His final act of revenge was clenched tightly within the convict's left hand. He could feel the pathetic creature's bones crumble in his crushing grasp, and his scaly, indigo skin ripping. Loki smiled as he awaited its desperate plea. However, instead of pitiful cry for mercy, Loki heard nothing of the sort come from the cruel and awful beast. He was certain that its final words were an apology.

_"Sorry."_

He couldn't have heard it correctly.

As Loki held the limp, vile flesh in his grip, and repeated the phrase in his mind, he realized, rather unpleasantly, that the soft, ephemeral utterance did not belong the cold and hideous monstrosity that he had just brutally murdered. It belonged to some warm being. Something perhaps kind. Something that was, oddly enough, vaguely familiar. His eyes widened to the paramount degree as he finally grasped his dire mistake.

Loki, then, blacked out. Time virtually ceased.

_"Sorry."_

A nightmare evolved.

His world turned into a gloomy fog. He stood on a never-ending horizontal plane of white stone. An infinite room with no ceiling or walls.

The word echoed clearly, the brief message bounced about from different origins in the tenebrous region, causing Loki to blindly look left, right. Dragging his lame leg behind him, he painfully limped onwards, following the call. His steps were taken in almost a slow motion, getting somewhere and getting nowhere at the same time.

That voice. He'd heard it before.

As Loki fought through the haze, the 'sorry's gradually fading away, the smog finally cleared and he stumbled into a small wooden chair. Having seemed as if he had been walking forever, he dropped exhaustedly into toy-sized seat, sweat trickling down his neck. Panting, his breaths turned into lurid clouds in front of his face and they drifted ahead to a distance unseen. From behind the grimy plumes, a silhouette appeared, pushing through the fog like an open door.

Loki immediately felt his pulse race.

While the shadow came into view, he began to wheeze through his shattered lungs, fear lingering over his body. The figure was small and sprightly, and, as it got closer, Loki recognized, the silhouette was that of…a little girl.

The silhouette spoke. Her tone was clear and deep, hinting with an accent that Loki just couldn't put his finger on.

"Hey slugger," she greeted.

Though he couldn't see her face, he knew that she was smiling.

"Rememba' me?"

His eyebrow rose, and his eyes shifted warily. He did not know her. He couldn't even _see_ her. Spreading her palms out as she approached, she coaxed, "Come on. You remember me don't cha?"

Bewildered, shaking his head slowly, he swallowed harshly, hoping she wouldn't come any closer to him. The shadow giggled and ran a hair through a plume of curly queues atop her head as she drew nearer.

She suddenly tossed her hands into the air and shouted exasperatedly, "Uh hello…ya' **live **with me!"

Loki's lip dropped and his eyes grew to a perpetual size. For a few moments he stared at her awkwardly as if to say, 'Pardon me, Miss, but you _must _be mistaken.' He gazed around in case there may have been someone else behind him that she had been addressing. Alas, they were alone.

The two-dimension figure of darkness seemed to be taking his nervousness in stride, as she clued, "We've been sequestered. We are almost roommates," she paused as she thought about it. "Technically," she added.

Loki only leered, grappling the edge of the chair tightly with his hands, feeling his blood pounding in his ears, as she waited for his response.

Fear danced around in his eyes as he wracked his brain, trying to have at least some recollection of what she was speaking of, but regrettably, he didn't.

Unexpectedly, the silhouette lashed out and threw herself at his feet and began to wail, "Please Loki, please! You've got to remember! You've _got _to remember!"

Loki was shocked and in terror tried to push the ghastly woman off from around his ankles as she persistedly pleaded. Tears of ink streaked down her blank face in murky rivers, "Please, you're hurting me, please try!"

Becoming very much afraid, Loki yanked and scrabbled to get away. But he couldn't. When he realized why, he screamed silently. Whatever she came into contact with became grossly attached to her, as if her skin was made of tar. As Loki struggled to in vain escape, she continued to throw herself as at him, clawing at his head, further enwrapping him in the putrid, sticky slime.

She screamed in hollow, rhythmic chants as Loki shielded his face with his hands, choking on charred paste.

"Stop hurting me! Stop! Stop! Stop!"

The black, viscous fluid slowly crept up his neck and oozed from his ears, spilling over his eyes and dripping from his eyelashes until his entire pallid face was covered in mire. He was blinded, but unfortunately was by no means deafened.

"I'm sorry…" The whisper of a hundred phantoms was the last thing he should have heard. Darkness should have been the last thing he saw. But it wasn't over yet.

He still had a chance.

"Loki." said a distant voice. Loki whimpered.

"Shh. Wake up now, Loki." a voice said comfortingly.

His eyes sluggishly opened, the ooze made it difficult for his lids to part.

"Hold on." It said sweetly. "Almost got it."

He felt the warm, soft material of a damp cloth smear his face. He flinched.

"Hold still now." it warned gently.

He heard the gentle fall of water as if a rag was being wrung out. The cotton wiped over his forehead and over his cheekbones and swept away the cobwebs and film veiling him.

"There." It said calmly, "It's alright. Open your eyes now."

His eyes opened all of the way, no longer weighed down by goo, expecting to see someone. But there was no one there. He was alone.

Peering down, he saw that he was in the exact same wooden chair. Except, unlike before, he was at a desk with yellowish papers laid about and a old, leather bound journal rest at the center of it all, open, with a single quill pen sitting in the margin. One candle flickered dimly next to it, its wick was worn down and the wax was forming a slick, ivory puddle about its small tower, leaving oiliness on the surrounding work.

Queerly, before Loki could consider making a run for it, the quill pen floated languidly upright, and setting its thin, metal tip to the lines of the worn paper, it wrote in a delicate cursive.

_Write to me._

The pen then lay back down and the ink ,thereupon the sentence being written, began to sink into the page until it had completely disappeared.

Confused and more than slightly spooked, Loki gazed at the dormant pen in the middle of the book, and timidly reaching out, and, taking courage, carefully lifted it into his left hand. The flame jubilantly bobbed at the man's meager accomplishment.

Hovering the tip over the page, Loki's wrist was still, afraid of what to say, and the ink dripped onto the page before fading away.

Taking caution, he wrote in tiny, scratchy letters, avoiding appearing too forward.

_Who are you?_

Upon setting down the writing utensil, the query soaked itself into the journal, vanishing from sight.

The pen lay dead for a few moments, as if…it were thinking. Gradually, it levitated and wrote in its elegant cursive.

Letter by letter, Loki grew anticipated.

_I go by many names._

Loki's heart began to throb before he swallowed and boldly replied.

_Tell me._

The pen immediately became excited and flew out of his hand onto the page, giving him a fright.

Loki was stunned as a list was written in a vertical line down the paper; his eyes followed the pen as the names died almost as soon as they were written.

At the end it wrote.

_But to you, I was known as Peyton._

Loki stared intriguingly at the final word. It compelled him to search through his own mind. He recognized it but he didn't know from where. The name ,he assumed, belonged to a female. He was almost too scared to do anything more. He felt he needed to find out who this person was. He was about to write his query in a form of a question but decided to pose it as an order.

_Show yourself._

The pen, he noticed, was almost hesitant, nevertheless, soon replied.

_I will._

Preceding the departure of the two words, the pen snatched itself away from him and began to scribble furiously on the paper, as if possessed by some tumultuous spirit.

But it was not words that were being written.

Loki leaned close to the journal as the pen went to work scrawling curved lines and circles and waves until in formed a picture. It was a profile. A face.

It was the face of a girl.

Some of her features were soft, others sharp. Her lips were full and smirking mischievously. Her hair was long and curly. Her eyes were wide and dark and angled at the ends, provoking both an innocence and mystery.

Suddenly, two stray wires came together in his mind with a heated spark, completing a once divided circuit, and a glass bulb became faintly lit above his head.

He recognized her.

His brain began to spin and twitch. Memories sprang up spontaneously, here and there, and in succession became a series of moving pictures. They played a grainy, sepia-like film of a little child laughing, jumping, twirling, and singing. She was amusing and frightening and strangely kind. At the end, she mouthed the words, 'Goodnight, Loki.' and the apparition stopped as he glanced at the pen laying on the book, waiting.

_I remember. _He wrote.

The flame on the wick leapt up and burned with such an inferno, the wax melted until there was no more candle; as if its elation was too much to bear and, accordingly, the light went out.

The bulb, though, was still there above him with a sleepy glow, lighting his way.

Loki could almost feel a smile sprouting as the pen scribed.

_Good._

Loki's happiness was apparent the way the creases of fear smoothed away in his forehead replaced with a relaxed expression.

But it was short-lived.

Then pen paused but soon steadfastly continued.

_But it's too late._

Any sign of a smile quickly diminished.

_You killed me._

His breath caught in his throat and he nearly coughed. Trepidation rippled across his face as his eyes darted about, trying to understand. Uncontrollably, his head shook. _No._

The pen waited before adding. _You certainly did. Look._

Trembling, with clipped panting, Loki hurriedly shoved the journal off of the desk, in fright, sending papers everywhere. Snapped up by some impetuous wind, the pages flew away in a flurry, floating and twirling into the darkness towards some unseen horizon. Soon, the desk was carried away as well, leaving only the pen.

Watching the spectacle, Loki jumped from his chair and hid behind it, leering from between the wooden beams and grasping them. Yet, the chair was dragged into the distance and Loki knelt so as not to be taken with it.

The quill lay on the floor for a moment, unscathed by the inclement weather that was just around it.

Eerily, the ink seeped out of the pointed, metal tip rising slowly into the air like liquid smoke. The oozing solvent molded into a short, womanly figure, the same from before.

Loki picked gingerly lifted himself up from the ground, resolving to bear the machination that no longer proved unknown to him.

"So. You rememba' now, huh?"

The silhouette drew nearer to him, her feet gliding gently above the ground. Loki confidently came face-to-no face with the featureless head, the steeled look on his face disguising his inner dread.

Without eyes, she peered up at him and discreetly stole his hand. Her touch was that as silk as she took his fingers and curled them about her neck. Bemused, Loki tried to release from her, but his hand was glued to her throat as if she…desired for him to take grip. Loki began to quake considerably as she grinned wildly with black lips and black teeth. He flinched and screwed his eyes shut at the wicked sight.

"Open your eyes."

A tear slipped down his snowy cheek as tried to free his left hand only to stretch the rubbery fluid and it snapped back.

"Just open your eyes." she whispered. "Really open them."

_I would never harm you. Peyton._

Clocks began to tick again. The world was still.

Quivering, mustering up whatever morsel of bravery he had remaining, Loki cracked his lids, revealing shifty, bright green eyes.

Upon visual, Loki's pupils dilated and his heart became virtually frozen, a rushing chill shot up his spine like a bullet, paralyzing him.

Reality had awakened and punched him square in the face. Within his fist, held above him was a tan, freckled face, blank, with closed eyes and dead lips, the body dangled lifelessly from his hand. A girl.

With a loud gasp and the shrillest of screams, he instantaneously dropped his victim. She fell in a face-down, crumpled heap, twisted awkwardly, lying dreadfully still as her billowy hair spun in dark curls around her.

Loki stumbled backwards onto the sofa and stared, wide-eyed, open-mouthed, in absolute horror.

Peyton. He'd killed her.

Loki's eyes frenziedly shifted back and forth about the disheveled scene, trying to determine exactly what had occurred. He was standing in a living area of a tiny home decorated with old, dusty furnishings. But what further disturbed Loki were the cushions and sheets from the couch strewn about and the scuff marks in the wood grains of the floor—he was appalled—clear signs of a struggle.

Swiftly regaining memory of the reason of his whereabouts, with a double take, he peered down at what he was wearing. A bright pink tee-shirt with the white letterings that said, 'Strong Men Wear Pink' was on him. Ignoring the apparently untrue message, he noticed flecks of red on the surface, streaming from a trial of blood. With dismay, Loki curiously swiped his hand on his collar bone and crimson stained his fingertips. Taken aback, he quickly put his palm to the back of his neck to feel two deep puncture wound, sticky with blood and sweat. She must have been trying to defend herself. Or at least that's what he thought.

He felt no pain in his neck though compared to the possible damage he had caused to—

Guardedly, Loki grappled clumsily over to the nightstand, fidgeted with the knob of the dim oil-lamp, brightening the room. He grew nauseous at the corpse of the small child, and wished that he'd left the lamp off. Loki knelt at the fallen body, ignoring the throbbing of his own injuries.

Hesitantly he outstretched his hand and with a shaky finger, grazed a soft tuft of her raven hair. He killed an innocent girl. A person who had only showered him with kindness since they had met. And the horrid fact was that he had barely known her.

Another. He'd taken away another life. And the concept of him yet again killing made him dizzy. He wished that by some sorcery he could switch places with her. It was his mistake and he would do anything to take it back. Anything.

His vision turned blurry as water began to well up in his emerald eyes. Blinking, tears rolled down Loki's cheek as he carefully lifted her from the back of the head from off of the ground to see her face. It was so blank and void of any of her normal spirit. A mere silhouette of her once form. Clearly, his nightmare held a morbid truth.

Loki gently brushed her hair off of her shoulder and was shocked to see the expanse of the damage. As he rotated her head slightly from side to side, her dusky skin lacquered a bluish-purple band all the way around her throat like some sort of awful, deathly necklace.

She was so still. But she was still warm. Perhaps there was a chance she was still alive. Because if there was one thing that a mere child could have taught him was that there is always—hope.

As delicately as possible, he searched for her carotid artery, feeling underneath her jawbone for her pulse. His face fell gravely when there was no response right away, but after a few moments he could have sworn that there was a faint thud. Loki gasped aloud and pressed harder with his fingers in disbelief—and there it was—the light thump, her pulse. It was dangling from a thread, but she was indeed alive. A smile wrinkled on the end of his lips —because there it was—hope.

Hovering his hand over her nose, Loki was dismayed to discover that although she was alive, she wasn't breathing. She was still in danger of asphyxiation.

Loki hadn't a single idea of how to resuscitate her though despite the vast knowledge he had of medicine. He'd never been in such a situation before and, evidently, he was clueless regarding humans. She wasn't gaining consciousness and he could tell that she was going to die very soon. If only he had a book…

Loki's head slowly turned towards the credenza. Without a second thought, he crawled over and parted the sliding doors revealing the various spines of volumes. By the threes Loki ripped them off the shelves anxiously scanning titles, flipping through pages, skimming chapters, and tossing them over his shoulders behind him to grab another book. After utterly destroying the library, a sea of books surrounding his legs, he realized , none of them were going to be of any help.

Nevertheless, the few moments Loki had spent tunneling through the dusty credenza had given him some time. Being surrounded by the inspiring words of learned authors actually brought him back to a sort of rational thought. He needn't a book to instruct him, only some common sense. He just needed to force her to breathe. How, that was the only question.

In the glow of the oil-lamp, the glint of the glass water picture twinkled in the corner of his eye. A plan promptly hatched and Loki was determined to accomplish it. Fetching the pitcher (and taking quite a while to do such with his injured back and leg), tottering the jar, splashing drops of water around with each faltering step, Loki stooped down to her level.

Loki exhaled, endeavoring to calm himself regardless of the fact that he was still shaking, scared, not for his life, but for Peyton's. He said a silent prayer. To whom? He wasn't sure. Even so, Loki hoped whoever it was would exercise mercy and give him courage to execute his rather…arbitrary scheme.

Setting aside all sense of squeamishness, Loki, taking care not to swivel her neck, he managed to unravel her body and lay her flat on the floor. Swallowing a profound gulp, he tilted her head backwards, and hovering the cumbersome water pitcher above her nose, Loki committed a heinous act that in most countries on the planet Earth would be considered torture. Of course, he didn't know that.

Loki did something dangerous, and furthermore, something illegal.

On the other hand, for a little thief stealing the last beatings of her heart, this offense made by her guardian would save her life.

Loki tipped the pitcher to some extent (more than he would've liked to) and water crashed down into her face and down her nose.

The sudden liquid rushing into her sinuses from her nasal passages incited her to use her airways and almost instantly Peyton came to. Her eyes snapped open wide as she flailed her arms in front of her face and she thrust herself upwards.

"WHAT THE—*cough*"

Peyton proceeded to shout hoarsely various phrases between the process of hacking up her lungs and waving her appendages in a spasmodic fashion like she was being attacked.

"KI SA'W GEN YEN! OU STUPIDE?!"

Translation roughly, "WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU, YOU STUPID?!"

"OU FOU! OU FOU! YAH!"

Translation roughly, "YOU'RE CRAZY!"

(Several other choice words in Haitian Creole were spouted from our Peyton, but I am not obliged to list them, for this story is, in fact, rated K and I do not wish to compromise that. You kind of have to give the almost-dead girl some credit for it though.)

Peyton was irate and coughing rather violently, but revived no less.

After a vicious tirade of angry words, she sputtered and gasped for what she would call 'precious oh-two' thereon in.

Initially Loki, inhaled sharply and withdrew insecurely away from her, afraid of being hit, but what he saw subsequently would soften him further.

Taking a few final coughs, Peyton raised her arm to whip her soaking hair that had since been covering her face. Upon its parting Loki realized that evidently, the lack of oxygen to her brain truncated her vision. She was blinded, for her eyes were bloodshot and she blinked dumbly at his blurry figure. She coughed and shuddered a couple of times before recognizing him.

And Loki could tell exactly when she was able to see him by the look of sheer terror that blossomed across her tiny face. Before he knew it, her chest began to rise and fall unsteadily, making her crushed vocal chords wheeze.

Loki was startled, gaping at her. Guilt wallowed around his entire being. _No. Please don't be afraid._

Loki innocuously extended out his hand towards her, hoping he could put her at ease, yet, unfortunately, in response, Peyton squealed sharply, backing away.

_No. Wait. _Loki edged closer to her, desiring to let her know she was safe. But Peyton, had her own suspicions. The girl gasped and crawled mousily behind the messy pile of books over to the corner of the room and wedged herself between the credenza and the wall, puffing, trembling, and sniffling.

As she distanced herself from, pouting with a mixture of sorrow and shame for how he was making her feel, Loki picked himself off of the ground and, oh so very timidly hobbled in her direction. Watching him come nearer, she squeaked and pushed herself further into the corner, as if she had to keep as far away from him as possible.

Her black, cat eyes were as large as billiard balls and were blood-shot, petrified, streaming with tears falling rhythmically, one-by-one onto the floor. He'd never seen anyone so scared in his life.

"Please," she whimpered, choking on her tears, "Don't—hurt me."

Loki's heart broke and sank from his chest, melting from his body into the floor, as pure self-disgust filled its place. He was a monster. He deserved to die.

Grieved, Loki so much wanted nothing more than to speak to her, to tell her that he never wanted to harm her, that he never would harm her. Involuntarily, he felt his eyes well up. He had a strange and horrific feeling that it wasn't the first time Peyton had such a thing happen to her.

She peered up at him weakly, hair dripping by her eyes, rasping and coughing shakily until she gagged.

Loki was only feet away from her and taking a couple of more slow, gentle steps (and almost tripping over some books in his way) towards the credenza. Peyton breathed louder and quicker with each of his movements. His eyes didn't leave her as he slid open the top drawer and reached inside.

She scootched backwards more, pulled her knees up closer to her, and whimpered into her nightgown, believing Loki was retrieving some sort of tool to slaughter her with. Peyton prepared herself for death. She hated herself for having been so stupid, so rebellious. She should've stayed home where people loved her. Now she was going to be murdered in a place where no one knew her. She would die a dishonorable death. She earned it.

But no. No. Peyton was not going to die tonight.

Loki pulled out a small entity and it wasn't a weapon of any kind.

Dangling in his slender fingers was a white plastic capsule with a crooked edge. Loki observed as her face softened ever so slightly as she eyed the familiar object.

Peyton just stared blankly as he gradually lowered himself to the ground in front of her, brushing a few of the dusty books from his proximity as he gingerly knelt, struggling to keep the agony from his face.

Loki ,painfully slow, innocently extended the peace offering in his open palm to her. Peyton gawked some more. It was her inhaler. He remembered where it was from earlier that day…or perhaps by that time…yesterday.

Peyton swallowed sharply, fire ripping her throat. She looked rapidly from the inhaler to him. Hesitantly, she reached out and took it into her little brown fingers and brought it to her mouth without taking her eyes away from Loki. Pushing the metal button on top she seized one puff. Two.

In a few moments time, her breathing became less raspy and frequent as it bit by bit returned to normal. Peyton stared warily into his bright green eyes, still shaken.

"You're not…going to hurt me," she uttered softly, straining a hope in her stammering voice, "…are you?"

Peyton watched as a tear trickled down his snowy face, down his cheek, and onto his still open hand. His green eyes welled up as he closed his eyes and shook his head miserably.

Peyton put down her inhaler and covered her eyes with her hands in despair, having felt completely awful. Until that one moment. Anyone else with the correct amount of ears wouldn't have heard it. But Peyton, being Peyton. Did.

"Peyton,"

It was so inexplicably hushed. It was so unbelievably quiet. And oh-so soft.

Peyton, for a second or two, thought she had imagined it. But she, as was many times that evening, was wrong. And oh how glad she was that she was.

Peyton parted her fingers and peeked through them and saw the pale, shy man before her and she dragged away her hands from her face. He looked on at her with those eyes. Those luminous eyes.

"Peyton," he repeated. His voice was almost inaudible, hoarse and deadened from lack of use. His lips barely moved, but he just knew she could hear him. It was so soft. She and only she could hear him.

"…I'm so sorry."

Her last words were his first words.

Peyton just stared at him. She was dumb, stooped, shocked, and flabbergasted in pure, unadulterated amazement. She did nothing but sit there and, for a bit, Loki looked sheepishly left and right, thinking he made another mistake. Peyton supposed that if he did, he had just made the most wonderful mistake.

Peyton bit her lip as a new spring of tears blurred her vision. She scooted up to him on her bum, inch by inch, already beginning to sniffle. Cocking her head upwards and smiling, Peyton, in one swift swoop, got up on her knees, lifted her arms, wrapped her arms around his waist, and began to sob.

"You did it! I ca-han't believe you did it!" she wailed, squeezing him tightly.

Loki just sort of knelt there awkwardly for a second or two, not having anticipated such a reaction from her. Without knowing why, he felt the rather odd urge to embrace her back. So, ignoring the fact that he was in pain and that he was uncomfortable with physical contact and that she was soaking wet, Loki draped his arms around her.

"You destest me." he whispered despondently as he buried his face into her damp hair and his tears rolled from off the end of his nose.

"No. I don't." she sniffed, and gave a playful smirk, "How could I? You looked so sweet when you said my name."

"You forgive me?" he breathed faintly in disbelief.

"Of course I do. I know you didn't mean it."

They stayed like that for a while until her smirk faded as he heard him cry and felt him begin to quake.

"Loki," Peyton released him and held him at arm's length, "what's wrong?"

His breathing became clipped and he started trembling considerably. He just shook his head forlornly, whimpering.

"Hey," she enveloped him in her arms again and pulled his head close, resting her head on his shoulder, "what's the matter?"

Loki just kept shaking his head and sobbing, making Peyton uneasy. "You can tell me. Really."

His lip quivered as he rasped, quieter than ever, "They can hear me."

It took Peyton a second for her to interpret what he was talking about. His still thought those horrendous beasts were coming for him. The ones that had caused him so much unimaginable suffering. Peyton became enraged as she thought about those hideous creatures that had hurt him.

"No," she reassured him , cradling him as he trembled in her arms, "No they can't—"

He interrupted, tears making his voice crack, "They will find me."

"Shh…" she petted his back tenderly, "They can't hear you."

But Loki wasn't convinced. "They're," he was muffled as concealed his face with her curly hair, "going to hurt you."

Peyton's heart skipped a beat. He was concerned about her. "No. No one is coming. No one can hear you. We're safe. I promise."

Loki ceased weeping abruptly as he listened to her. She promised. She was so small, so warm, so vulnerable. She was so human. Yet, **she **promised **him **that they were had yet to break her promises. They held an almost impenetrable guarantee. He'd been hallucinating long enough. There was no one coming. He believed it. They were safe.

They sat together on the floor, embracing, for what seemed like hours. But to them, time was an irrelevant factor.

Peyton could smell dawn settling in the forest floors of the mountains. Something about the way the rosy light peeked through the curtains, and the scent of dew forming in the grass, she could tell. Leaning forward, rubbing his tenderly, she said gently, her low voice tickled his ears, "It's morning Loki."

Loki withdrew, politely suppressing a yawn with his hand, and he nodded wearily. Peyton noticed the luggage underneath his eyes and said, "You really need the sleep."

Loki , got up and sluggishly moved in the direction of the books to try and rectify the mess he'd made, when Peyton put her hand out to stop him. "We'll clean it up later 'aight?"

He agreed.

Gathering up the couch pillows and blankets and making a swab of the bite wound on the nape of his neck (that she'd undoubtably given) and giving it a plaster of Loki's favourite toy —a Band-Aid—Loki was once again under the covers, safe and sound. After changing into another set on pajamas, taking some aspirin for her bruises, dressing her neck with some ointment, giving herself another 'bath', she left the bathroom, her hair once again in two buns, she tucked him in like a child. Peyton smiled and teased, "Good morning Loki."

He smiled wistfully as she whisked up his favourite arm rest bolster and stuffed it lovingly beside him like a teddy bear. Rumpling up his hair with her fingers and turning down the oil-lamp, she jested, "Have sweeter dreams."

As she departed and headed for the stairs, she heard a faint call in a gentle, polite British tone through the dark, "To you as well."

Peyton turned and gave him a warm smile, even though she knew he couldn't see her. Her nose tinkled.

_There will be better days ahead, Loki._

_ I promise._

**_REVIEW!_**


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